A Wager
by Monkey Ruler
Summary: He thought having an all-powerful psychopath as a sister was enough of an ego-crusher. Now he has to try and seduce the bitchiest skunk in Bayville. As if it wasn't impossible enough, now he has a rival. Rietro vs Romy mainly, along with a few others.
1. The Bet

It had all started off with a bet, an outrageously common thing in the Brotherhood house. Not dares. Dares were for pussies. _Bets _were for _real _men. And Tabitha, of course. Wanda didn't give a shit.

Get Rogue to confess her undying love, or something along those lines. Which was a bit difficult, seeing as she hated his guts.

But he was Pietro Maximoff! He failed at nothing! Except for that one time when the X-Men caught him and he was sent to jail, but that was only because the whole team ganged up on just him! It was a mockery of a battle! A sham! He refused to accept that as a failure!

There was also that other time when Wanda locked him up and he was sent to jail, but that didn't count. Nobody won against Wanda when she was rightfully pissed.

He would seduce the Rogue, dammit! No matter how scary she looked, or that she had already lived with him and the others and saw them worthless enough to abandon for the X-Men. Tabitha had volunteered, at first, to be the one to seduce the Rogue, but despite several fantasies that sprung up in the boys' head at that suggestion, they finally teased Pietro into agreeing to the bet.

The whole bet had started from a conversation over Southern hospitality. Wanda was upstairs painting her nails red or something. Then it led to how Rogue, who was Southern, seemed to have none of the sugary sweet manners that the television led them to believe all Southerners had. Especially ones from Mississippi. There was that one Southern dweeb in the X-Mansion, the one who wore denim vests and was said to be a dense blond Lance, which made Lance automatically hate the poser, but they never spoke to him before. Not even Tabitha, who lived with him. So they didn't care about him.

Then it was a conversation over whether Rogue could actually feel anything other than depression or rage. They had experienced a lot of both emo-ness and anger living with her, and had not once seen her smile. That turned into a debate, and it was blonds versus other. The other, lesser mutants with the inferior hair color argued that there was no way that Rogue could ever fall in love. The blonds, being Fred, Tabitha, and Pietro, (since even though he had silver hair everyone knew he was a blond at heart) argued that everyone was capable of falling in love. Every, last freakish ugly deformed mutant in Bayville had the capacity for love. Every, last one.

And so one of the shittiest blows to Pietro's ego had begun.

Goodie.

Author's Note: It's set after the show is over, but Tabitha, for some reason, is still living with them and not the X-Men. It's more fun there? Maybe?


	2. Quicksilver's Delivery Service

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to X-Men: Evolution. Nor do I own any other references I might make in this story. I only own the situation and their witty dialogue.

A Number of Months Ago

Two masculine figures walked along the almost completely bare sidewalk. It was nothing like either of them were used to, where the streets and the sidewalk were overrun with people they almost had to fight to get through. The few people who did walk by seemed to be surprised with their presence. The air that they gave off was so completely different from the punks that usually walked around, acting like they were too good for Bayville. These two walked around and didn't just _act _like they were too good. They were so completely _sure _that they were too good for this place that they seemed to be of a completely different matter altogether than the others. They were like a Greek fire, floating on the surface of the water.

It was suburbia. Enough said.

They both wore dark, black sunglasses, one to hide a mutation in their eyes, and the other to look cool. The clothes they wore were eccentric compared to the usual suburban rags. The taller of the two with the mutated eyes wore a crisp, button up shirt, untucked, with sinfully tight pants tucked into riding boots. A hint of a goatee, long, shaggy hair. Three fingered gloves that looked badass, and a ragged brown trenchcoat.

The slightly shorter one had flaming orange hair spiked up to imitate wild fire, torn up faded jeans paired with _rain boots, _a few stolen leather wrist cuffs, and a baggy old shirt singed and so old that skin was poking out in some places. He didn't look so strange compared to your average scruffy punk, but the two of them together looked incredibly badass. As if they could just as easily beat you up as they could get into your pants. Depending on your gender and their preferences.

"So what is dere to do for fun 'round here?" A bored Gambit asked, who was so incredibly bored he appeared to lean back as he walked. An equally bored Pyro sighed.

"Why you askin' me, mate? I'm just as stumped as you are." Especially since he was forbidden from using fire in public when he wasn't on a mission. Damn Mags and the dirt he had on everybody to bend them to his will.

"Dere's a surprisin' lack o' pretty girls." Remy noted, and a passing woman glared at him, "'Cept you, _belle_." Remy smiled charmingly and the woman blushed slightly and continued on, incredibly flustered.

"The bunch we fought had a pretty nice selection of sheilas." John shrugged.

"Xavier's followers?" Remy contemplated the fight. It was pretty low for his standards; he was used to using at least half a deck against a gang of organized fighters. Instead, he barely used a suite. It was a sad day for the X-Men in terms of how easy it was to completely own them in every aspect of the word.

That girl, though, with the unbelievably heavy makeup. If the eye contact wasn't in incredibly short range and hadn't lasted for such a long time, she probably would have landed in a good hit or two. He bet he could have used a whole suite on her. It was only luck and his thief-like cunning that let him sneak up on her while she was using her smarts to try and sneak up on them. He hadn't even seen her sneaking up on them until he wandered away from the battle out of boredom.

"I heard at the mansion this one chick is _made of fire_. Hear that, Remy? Made. Of. Fire."

"I hear y'." Remy sighed.

He wondered if the hot chick he sort of tried to blow up was still alive.

He should look into that.

* * *

And so he did look into it. And kidnapped her. And then proceeded to stalk her. With her knowledge, of course. Just not her consent.

* * *

The Present

"G'mornin' _cherie_." A husky voice said from the balcony.

Kitty giggled, brushing her hair by the window.

Rogue didn't even blink and instead just turned the page in her book. The Once and Future King. She usually strayed from stories of Camelot—She was once compared to a female Mordred in her younger days, before she tried to kill her adoptive mother. She failed to see the irony now. Mystique was no King Arthur.

"Logan hates the smell of gumbo. Those three tears in yo' coat shoulda taught you that by now."

"Dis Cajun is a slow learner. 'S gon' take more den a near brush wit' death t' get dat t'rough dis thick skull." He tapped his head with a card and gracefully leapt from the balcony railing onto the floor. Like a cat. A manly cat. Remy was a panther.

"How 'bout Ah call him in for y' so he can give ya another lesson? Maybe it won't just be a near brush this tahme."

Kitty giggled again. "You guys are like, so made for each other. We should film this and like, make a television show out of it."

"First Ah have tah get a boob job and he has to get famous. We already have the crazy factor needed fo' a reality show."

"Quicksilver delivery service!" A loud voice rang out through the hallways before a white blur appeared in their room, the door slamming open and probably causing a hole in the wall from the force in which the doorknob hit it.

"Fuck, Maximoff! What the hell are you doin' here?"

"I told you! Quicksilver delivery service—" The I'm-so-sexy-bow-down-before-me smirk quickly faded into a look of outrage, "What-the-hell-is-he-doing-here!?" Pietro pointed an accusing finger at Remy leaning languidly against the wall.

"'M de one wit' the actual invite."

"Says who?" Rogue asked, turning another page in her book.

"De _petit chat _over dere in deh corner."

"What?" Kitty threw up her hands defensively, "He's cute and he likes you. As a roommate I give him visiting rights."

"Oh. Right. Kitty, Lance wants me to give you this," He gave her a pink stuffed cat, "And a proposal to accompany him this Sunday evening in an outing about the town."

"I, like, totally accept." Kitty hugged the kitty to her with a smile.

"So," Pietro sped over to where Rogue was lounging on her bed. She glared, "The Once and Future King, huh? A pretty good read. He wasn't kidding when he said those were his own interpretations of the characters. Merlyn (Merlin) kind of reminds me of Benjamin Button."

"Only with a shitload more influence and half of his good looks." Rogue scoffed before looking thoughtfully at Pietro, "Ah'm surprised, Maximoff."

Remy raised an eyebrow.

"At my ability to make such astounding connections?" The I'm-so-sexy-bow-down-before-me smirk was back.

"Nah, Ah didn't know that ya could both read and sit through an entire movie."

"I'm a man of many talents." Pietro adapted a 'cool' pose and grinned down at her.

Rogue snorted and turned another page.

"Is one of dose talents comin' in uninvited 'n makin' an ass o' y'self, _homme_?" Remy asked coolly. He shuffled his deck of cards, looking very menacing indeed.

"No, that's more like your talent. Why's he even here, Roguey? He works for my father!"

"Mah name ain't Roguey."

"Actually, he kind of quit. A while ago. He's thinking about joining the mansion." Kitty informed him, reminding them that yes, she was still in the room.

"And y' still one of de bad guys." Remy smirked.

"I resent that." Pietro huffed, "So Roguey, what're you doing later?"

Rogue rolled her eyes.

"Why do you want tah know?"

"A date, of course!"

Kitty burst into a coughing fit.

Remy frowned.

Rogue raised her eyebrows.

"Ah dun do dates."

Pietro expected this. Anticipated this, even, so he could implement his genius plan.

Whine.

"Come _oooonnnn_."

"_Mon chere _said no, _hein_?"

"Ah ain't yo anythin', Swamp Rat." Rogue says automatically, not even caring about what he was actually saying. It was more rehearsed than anything.

Pietro pouted. This bet was going horribly. Roguey and this stupid red eyed dude had _traditions. _He says something, she snaps back a well remembered retort. That means that they've been talking long enough to have well remembered retorts! He's going to lose at this point.

He needed to strategize.

A manner of seconds go by, surprising compared to the speed at which he thought.

"Fine, fine. I'll see you later, Roguey."

"I told ya not ta call meh-"

And he was gone.

"Stupid jerk!"

* * *

Okay. Relax, Petey. You can handle this. You've handled worse before and came out relatively unscathed. You've betrayed your best friends and your sister for your twisted power-hungry father so you could finally have that "I'm proud of you, son" moment, which never happened even _after _you saved his butt from sure death and then gained back their trust. You've gotten out of jail countless times. You have an IQ that could pimpslap Daniels in the face and force him into prostitution. You can solve a rubik's cube in under ten seconds. You made that one child genius _cry. _You made those contestants on those local game shows you got onto cry. How many people have you made cry with your intellect? Your wit is as sharp and deadly as the claws on Wolverine's hairy, bloodthirsty hands.

Rogue is the rubik's cube.

Solve the rubik's cube.

Wait.

The bet was, technically, to prove that Rogue could love. And that Acolyte is pretty damn well near his goal of love and affection, judging from how Rogue was so comfortable with him. Way less ready to throw a punch in his face compared to how her shoulders tensed up around Pietro. Technically, if Rogue fell for Gambit, Pietro would still win the bet. Right?

Fuck, that would be a blow to his ego. Pietro never lost anything! Ever! He wouldn't bow down to Gambit just because that would be both easier and the more intelligent choice. He would fight against the odds and win, dammit! And he'd be a sneaky bastard about it, too!

But, if that didn't work out, Gambit would be a pleasant loophole to the bet that would assure his victory.

**Author's Note**: I made her read The Once and Future King as kind of a tribute to the second X-Men movie. And because I think Merlin is spiffy.

I'm basically just writing this all as I go, so I have no clue who I want to actually win Rogue's delicate, Southern heart. So if you want, you can act like it's a poll and tell me who you want her to end up with. Or if she should end up with someone completely seperate and unexpected. Or if she should end up with anybody at all! So I guess the options are Remy, Pietro, nobody, and other. Have fun voting!


	3. Kitty's Startling Revelation

Rogue was used to having unusual things happen in her life. She was a mutant. A mutant that was a frequent target for unexpected plottwists.

But suitors vying for her attention?

That was something she never expected to happen. And now, not only was the Cajun stalking her on a regular basis, but now Pietro found it fun to harass her. Why couldn't normal guys—guys like Scott or something—go for her? It was like as soon as Cody got zapped by her, she was cursed to be unwanted by nice, sweet guys.

And now her locker had to pay the consequences.

She had seen this horror before, usually just a rose sticking out of the locker, or some balloons for birthdays. But this... This was beyond what anyone had ever done before. And it was done to _her _locker.

Green tissue paper, for one, was glued onto her locker in little ruffles in the shape of a very large heart. That alone made her want to gag. But when she opened the locker, after thoroughly ripping off the heart with a fury that quieted the laughing students passing by with fear, what was inside was a horror that only someone like Maximoff would have had the nerve to do.

First, there was confetti.

Lots of it.

She didn't even bother trying to brush it out of her hair, although she irritably peeled it off of her face. Great. Now she has to go redo her makeup in the girl's bathroom like one of those _normal _chicks.

And then, in _glitter glue, _was a sparkling love letter on her locker door, complimenting her seafoam green eyes, the beauty of her two toned hair, contrasting as wonderfully with each other as her dark clothing contrasted with her pale skin.

Rogue ripped that off of her locker, too, to the best of her ability.

"Like my gift, Roguey?"

Pietro. Of course.

"Yeah. Just as much as Ah like that overwhelming stupidity of yours." Rogue growled.

"So you go for the dumb guys, huh? Thought so. I mean, that's why-you-went-for-Summers, right?"

"Gimme _one_ good reason why Ah shouldn' suck you dry."

"As _amazingly _hot that sounds," Rogue rolled her eyes in disgust, "I don't think I'd be put to best use unconscious. What _does _sound like super-duper-fun, though, is a date."

"Didn' Ah already say no yesterday?"

"Yeah, but I didn't give the right incentive yesterday."

"Not interested in whatever you're sellin'. Now git outta mah way before Ah really do knock ya unconscious." She peeled off her glove, rolled up her sleeve, and curled her fingers into a very painful looking, very deadly fist.

Pietro would try his luck again tomorrow.

* * *

And so he did.

With a new, more original sparkling poem, this time complementing the passion she lived her life with, focusing more on her emotional inside stuff than her looks. All girls fell for that, right? Nevermind that Rogue wasn't 'all girls'. Sometimes, if it weren't for the boobs and her previous crush on Summers (they didn't count that as part of the bet. She was probably on drugs then, or absorbed Perfect Jean _way _too much to be considered healthy) the Brotherhood wondered if Rogue was a chick after all. She was certainly violent like a dude.

Rogue tried to punch him in the face as soon as he appeared, and he ducked at just the right second otherwise he would have had a really really ugly bruise that would have marred his perfect features and made him just as ugly as the bruise.

"Come _on, _Roguey. Isn't it sweet?"

"No. It's annoying and invasive. Like you. And don't call me Roguey or Ah'll punch you in the throat."

"You have a _bit _of a temper. More than usual, actually." Pietro was never one to actually have concern for others, but he was a little curious, "What happened?"

"You and yo' stupidity!" Rogue exclaimed, shoving him roughly into the lockers before he had time to dodge.

Rogue was always a quick one.

He'd try again tomorrow.

And the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

It went on like this for a week and a half before Rogue finally had enough of just refusing him.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Pietro!?"

"Ooh, first name basis. Usually you just call me the white haired menace. Not to be confused with my father, of course. I'm the sexy charming one."

"Just shut up, okay? Why the hell are you tryin' so hard anyway?"

"You still haven't accepted a date."

"I'm not interested in an amusement park or watchin' cheesy romantic movies and snugglin'."

"Of course you wouldn't." Pietro scoffed. That was obvious. She hadn't warmed up to him nearly enough to do those things with him.

"So why are you even botherin' so much?"

"A drive."

"A what?" That was unexpected.

"Come on. I've got Lance's jeep for the day and a tub of gas in the trunk. We can go to the diner from before, remember? Best burgers in town, guaranteed. Not that that town had a lot of options. So I guess they were telling the truth! Come _on_. We haven't been there in ages." Not since you left for the X-Men, "_None_ of us have."

Rogue didn't dare visit it with her current housemates. It was like the diner was something untouched, something sacred, that she couldn't let the X-Men in on. It would feel like betraying the Brotherhood all over again.

Ew. Her thoughts were disgusting and angst-ridden.

They had only been there a few times, discovering it on one of the days Mystique made them drive around together and _bond. _Learn to work as a team or something. They hadn't had any money to buy dinner with, so Todd conveniently bumped into some rich bozo in the park and accidentally grabbed his wallet. They then ran all the way to the diner laughing at how easy it was. It was a bonding experience, alright.

"Come on. Afterschool. You and me, the open road, and that freaky addicting thrash-metal techno shit that's so fun to listen to." The music _was _addicting. And she did need a vacation, if not from people altogether than just the majority of them. Especially that Cajun stalker.

Pietro grinned charmingly.

Rogue didn't know who was worse. At least Maximoff had a better sales pitch. Remy offered a friend to watch her back—when she _called _for one—but had been hanging around her so much lately Rogue didn't know what the hell he was offering now. Pietro, as obnoxious as he was, was offering unbelievably good food.

"If Ah go with you." Rogue said slowly, Pietro's charming grin slowly widening into a full out beam, "Then it ain't a date, got it? Just a road trip. An' food."

"Not just food, Roguey. _Great _food. I'll pick you up after school, okay?"

"Whatever."

Phase one, accomplished.

* * *

"Yo, Pietro!" Todd yelled, hopping up and down on the seat at the lunch table, "Over here!"

Pietro weighed his options. Sit near Rogue, get some conversation points in with her, possibly annoy her to the point where she cancels their date—and it was a date, no matter how much she denied it—or keep his distance and hang out with his normal crew. Keep things casual and not overwhelm her.

Second choice it is, then.

"So how goes it with the Rogue?" Toad asked as soon as he approached the group.

"I'm cashing in that coupon, Lance." Pietro smirked.

"What coupon?"

"Remember when you joined the X-Geeks and you gave me that one-day-coupon for your jeep?"

"Yeah, and I considered it _void _when you double crossed us for daddy dearest."

"Nonsense. You signed it yourself, and I have it right—here!" He waved it in front of Lance's face, who snatched it angrily from his hand, "I'm gonna drive Rogue afterschool for our hot date."

"What? You on a date with _Rogue_?" Fred laughed, "I don't believe it."

"Did you pay her or something?" Lance asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I bet. Ten bucks for every minute. A hug, fifty bucks. A kiss? Free. But the paramedics ain't cheap at all, man." Toad laughed.

"Shut up. I won her over with nothing but my sweet fucking heart!"

"Yeah right." Fred rolled his eyes, "She doesn't like us. Even when she was Brotherhood. My _head still _hurts from when she attacked me with my own powers."

"That, my friend, is the pain from _thinking _too hard. Victory-is-at-hand!" Pietro exclaimed, a fork raised high in the air in a pose only the mightiest of heroes dared attempt, "First, I conquer her stomach. And then, her heart!"

"... Right."

"I am not dumb!" Fred roared, hurling his fork at Pietro's head.

He ducked, thankfully.

Death by fork isn't a turn on to _anybody. _

_

* * *

_"So, Rogue. What were you, like, talking to Pietro about?" Kitty asked.

"Nothin'. Ah'ma be gone afterschool, so don't wait up for me or anything. Same with dinner."

"Serious? Are you going out for, like, _Cajun _food?" Kitty giggled.

It was about time that the two were alone together.

Rogue had insisted that Kitty be present in all of Remy's meetings with her, claiming that Kitty was there for security purposes. When asked if Rogue didn't trust Remy, Rogue said that she wouldn't trust him if she were dangling off of a cliff and Remy's bo staff was the only thing long enough to reach her hand. Instead she would gladly let go and plummet to her death.

Kitty thought that Rogue was in major denial and needed to stop using her as an excuse not to get too close to Remy.

"Ah'm sick of Cajun food. Ah'm goin' out for burgers." Rogue growled, stabbing her mashed something-or-other quite viciously.

"Is this about what happened yesterday?"

"Vhat happened yesterday?" Kurt asked, sitting down and smiling brightly at them.

"Ah got a bit of food poisoning." Rogue said, glaring at Kitty to contradict her.

"Yeah, she's completely fine now, though. Mr. McCoy is like, a real life saver."

"You should have told me, Rogue!" Kurt exclaimed worriedly, "I would have made you my famous recipe for stomache aches for all kind! It's a Wagner remedy. Good for indigestion. Don't ask what's in it, though."

"Ah'm fine. Really. Completely one hundred percent cured."

"The Wagner remedy will guarantee you a stomach a hundred times stronger than before! Why do you think I can eat so many burger bombs and not be both horrendously fat and _dead?!_"

"Ah really don't wanna know, Kurt."

"Your loss."

Kitty giggled. Sibling banter was so _adorable. _Kitty had found that she had been thinking that alot around Rogue, lately. How Rogue would look so pretty if she lightened up on the makeup a bit, how Rogue was totally made for Remy and vice versa, how good she looked in purple...

Was Rogue....

Her best friend!?

**Author's Note: **Gasp! So much to pack into such a tiny chapter!

Romy is beating out Rietro three to one in the unofficial polls. Poor Pietro. He has no love.


	4. In Which Remy is Slightly Pissed Off

**A belated disclaimer (do we really even need it on a website called _fanfiction_?): **I do not own anything except for my writing. And even then it can get a little iffy.

Present Day:

If one were to take advantage of the Google street view mechanism, which stalkers were oft to do, and bypass the security measure that distorted the image within half a mile radius of the Xavier property that Charles spent _quite _a pretty penny for, one might find something highly unusual lurking around the X-Mansion. Past the "New Mutants (even though they were far from new in the eyes of Logan and his patience with them) frolicking on the lawn, blasting each other with each other's powers and making a general mess of things. Except for Iceman, who thought that his overuse of his powers would actually help the mansion. Once it melted, it would be twice as effective as those dumb sprinklers. He didn't have an excuse to justify his powers _inside _the mansion, yet.

Anyways, past all of the mayhem brought about by the residents of the mansion, a lurker could be seen. Well, sort of seen. Maybe if you both knew exactly where to look, had abnormally powerful eyesight, and squinted at _just _the right angle, a thief could be seen in a conveniently placed tree, right in front of Rogue's window. Or Kitty's window, if you were Lance. He had memorized that window very well. Both men did, but this thief was the only one who had manage to make use of the window.

His name was Gambit.

Or Remy, when he wasn't busy thieving. Or when he was busy thieving your heart.

You can laugh. That was a joke.

But at the same time, it was the truth. So you can swoon if you want to.

Right now he was working his magic on a pretty little number. Except she wasn't so little. Tall, curvy and as fit as any self-respecting thief or assassin he had encountered back home. And _pretty _wasn't the word to describe her. Beautiful wasn't, either. Although she certainly could be, underneath all of that purple and white paste she glued onto her face every day. Unusual, maybe? In a good way?

His magic wasn't working that well, either.

Something about Rogue brought out the desperate puppy dog side of him, and while the puppy dog side of him was _quite _charming if he did say so himself, the desperate part of him negated the magic bit of him.

So working his magic on the pretty little number? It was more like desperately trying to grab at a poisonous snake and both make it fall in love with him and _not _die.

But if Remy was known for anything, sometimes, when he felt like it, he was known for his perseverence.

Or atleast now he was, now that he wasn't running away from much anymore. He didn't want to think about how bad that made him sound.

In one fluid motion, he both leaped from the tree and opened the window with his bo staff, landing gracefully on the windowsill like a manly cat. The window was conveniently unlocked. Usually he took half a second more to pick it. Rogue's room was in a conveniently shadowed area of the mansion. In fact, you would have had to have been paying attention beforehand to even notice Remy's descent. Otherwise the brief glimmer of movement would have been written off as a squirrel.

He was that good.

"Bonsoir, mon... cherie?" Remy looked around the near empty room in confusion, "'Ey, y'know where ma _belle fille _be at?"

Kitty looked up from her laptop, almost surprised that he was actually there in her window. But not quite. It was practically a habit of his. She was only surprised that she didn't hear him at all until he started speaking.

"Yeah, she's like, out having dinner."

"'S _cinq heures_, Kitty. T'ought _vous avez eu le dîner_ strictly at _sept heures trente._"

"I take Spanish, Remy. I have, like, no idea what you said."

"How come she isn't havin' dinner wit' de rest of y'?" Remy sighed.

"Oh. Why didn't you just, like, say so? She went afterschool for like, an early dinner like, late lunch."

"She avoidin' Remy, den?" He may have gone a little too far yesterday. But desperation made him go a little too far.

"Like, of course not! I mean, she's just, like, goin' out with a friend."

"Right. Remy'll just wait for 'is Rogue, den."

"You might not want to do that," He gave her a quizzical look, "You totally don't have to worry. I mean, I was pretty surprised that she was socializing, too! But it's healthy for her, to get out, right? So that's why I had Jamie follow her!"

"Y' a great friend, _petite._" Remy rolled his eyes.

"Well, like, I'm not gonna tell like, _Scott _or something who she's hanging out with, y'know? It's just for my curiosity."

"And de _garcon _y' have followin' her?"

"He can keep a secret." Kitty shrugged.

"Kitty! Status report!" Jamie ran into the room, "Wait, what's he doing here!?"

"He's like, not an acolyte anymore, Jamie! Just like Piotr."

"He was an acolyte!?"

"Oh right. You've never seen him before. But he can be trusted with the information of Rogue's whereabouts."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Status report?"

"Oh. Yeah. I lost them."

"What!?"

"Well, I can only go so far on a bicycle! And the jeep goes _really really _fast when Pietro's driving."

"Wait. _Pietro!?_"

"Yeah. I was surprised, too!"

"What took you so long to get back, then!?"

"Jean bought me ice cream! I can't refuse her, or else she'd know something was up!"

"If she read your mind, she'd know something was up, too!"

"Nuh uh! I kept my mind busy thinking about all the candy bars they meshed into my ice cream!"

"But Rogue's hanging out with the brotherhood! That warrants some concern!"

"But if the acolytes are okay, then that means the Brotherhood is, too. Right?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure, Jamie. Just like, keep it a secret, okay?"

"Of course! Bye, Kitty!"

Kitty sighed. This complicated things a bit. Remy must be pretty angry. She turned to look at him, and saw him calmly shuffling a deck of cards. But his eyes were shining very _very _brightly.

It kind of creeped her out. Rogue'd probably think he was smexy. Weirdo. She took a peek once inside the Anne Rice novel that Rogue had been reading again and again like it was the bible or something. _Creepy._

"Remy?"

Silence.

"Remy? You're like, scaring me."

"Rogue is on a date wit' de _blanc _spineless obnoxious boy." The only date the two of _them _had been on involved him _kidnapping _her and bringing her to Mardi Gras. His standards were too high to consider him dropping in her window everyday a date. "_Petit. _What was de reason f' you not wantin' me t' wait up for _mon cherie_?"

"Uh, well, she might be, like, the _slightest _bit T.O.'d from the like, bomb you smacked her in the face with yesterday."

"Remy don' smack 'round de women, _petit. _'Less they're insane and threatenin' t' kill him wit' somet'in' deadly. Like guns." Self preservation always outweighed his chivalry. Remy blinked at Kitty confusedly.

"No, like, the major revelation you practically like, forced upon her. Nobody likes a reality check, Remy."

Remy already had an idea of what she was saying, even before he asked her. But he liked to be able to confirm things.

Hell, if Rogue called _him _out like that, he would have avoided the mansion for a few days, too. It would have turned into a full blown argument, both of them revealing things about the other that they were perfectly fine living in denial with, and with two messed-up individuals like them, there were _alot _of subjects to cover. Remy had, in a nutshell, said that Rogue avoided everyone, but not because of her powers. Her powers were an excuse to let her keep a safe distance from everyone else. She was just scared of being too close to someone. And now that Remy wasn't the least bit wary of her powers, already a victim of them _twice _and none the worse for it, she was using Kitty as another barrier between the two.

He was calling her a coward.

He probably drove her to accept the date with that sniveling daddy's boy. Just to prove a point.

"_Oui._" He said after a moment of deep thought. He would need to apologize for that. In private, without Kitty there to play mediator. Cause no offense to the girl, but Remy could only stand the valley girl talk when he was getting something from the speaker. Usually sex. But since he was being so loyal to Rogue, the only thing Remy would get out of the girl would be information about Rogue, "Remy'll see y' later, den."

"Um, okay then. Bye."

He flew back into the tree and disappeared from sight.

Kitty then proceeded to Febreeze the room and the air outside, thanking God that Remy only showed up when Logan was prowling about the streets on his bike, always giving just enough time for his scent to fly away in the breeze.

* * *

Slightly Before But Still Mostly Present Day:

"You're not much of a conversationalist these days." Pietro noted after five minutes of silence in the car. He didn't count the half minute before those five minutes, because Rogue had threatened him with painful death if he crashed the car.

"When was Ah evah?"

Pietro thought.

When did they ever have a conversation? Even when she was Brotherhood? Other than his recent pursuing of her, the two had never even spoken except for in passing. The two had a bunch in common--both were children of insane human haters that had plans of mass chaos that they enjoyed making their children and lackeys carry out like pawns. Both were extremely good looking, although Rogue had horrible style. Wanda was never heavy on the makeup, but she was a Goth like Rogue so Pietro couldn't say outright that he thought that fashion choice was icky. But he did.

But that was where their similarities ended. Even the discovery of the diner was mainly Pietro monologuing and Rogue making sarcastic quips when she felt the need to do so. They stayed out of each others way, most of the time. The girls Pietro spoke to usually had a type. Low IQ giggly types, which was apparently a universal thing, thank God. He thought he would have died when he moved from the city to this suburban dump. Maybe he was... Intimidated? She could be as scary as Wanda sometimes. When she wasn't a do-gooder broody emo, of course. She snuck up on you, like some extremely quiet thing, and these harmless looking delicate fingers just spring up in front of your face and lightly graze your skin, barely touching you, and WHAM! You're down for the count.

God, he hoped Rogue and his sister never became friends.

"Well, this date is to change that, Roguey!" He ignored her protest that it wasn't a date. She was still in denial. But he respected that, "And dates are when two people learn about each other."

"Ah know what a date is. And this ain't one."

"Here. Let me start off." He said, ignoring her, "My name is Pietro. My favorite color is blue! I get a _little _competitive sometimes, and I think it's laughable how Evan thinks he can compete with me."

"Evan ain't even livin' with the X-Men anymore, much less anyplace where ya social circles might connect." Rogue pointed out.

"Yeah, he's living in the sewers. Nasty, poo-infested sewers." Rogue rolled her eyes, "So I win!"

And so Pietro began to talk about himself. Let Rogue get to know him, get relaxed around him.

He had begun to talk about how he would sometimes drop by this basketball court in California and play a few unofficial games with these guys who could sort of compete with him in terms of skill, but definitely not speed, when she interrupted him.

"Why'd ya ask me here, Pietro?" Rogue asked tiredly, looking at him with a suspicious eye.

"What ever are you talking about, Roguey?"

"Ya know what Ah mean. Ah'm not one of those girls that'll just listen and giggle at whatever ya say. Ah could care less about what type of cheese ya find ta be superior to the other, or that your ego is so inflated that ya half ta go all the way across the country just to find some guys to play ball with now that Evan is too hulky to play ya in public--what the hell am Ah here for?"

There were a few ways this could go. He could confess about the bet, get either beat within a half inch of his life, or drained within a half inch of his life, be unable to drive due to the fact that he was more than half dead, and then go careening off the road so he could die _completely. _Which was not a fun option at _all._

He could spout off some emotional bullshit over how he thought they had a _connection_ and some bullshit that usually worked with stupid giggly girls, but probably wouldn't with Rogue. It'd probably end like the first scenario. With him in pain, and then dead.

Or, he could be subtle about it.

"You looked lonely."

"Ah looked lonely." Rogue repeated, as if Pietro wasn't aware of what he said. Which he was completely aware of. He picked those words very carefully to tug at her heart strings, dammit! Rogue said it in a disbelieving tone, so maybe she wasn't so much of a retard but a distrustful sarcastic girl. That was a bit harder to work with.

"Yeah. I got sick of all those whiny selfish girls," Never would such a thing happen! "And you looked, I don't know, lonely. And so here I am, keeping you company. And we're learning about each other! That's good."

"Ah don't need company." Rogue said gruffly, lifting her feet up onto the dashboard and staring out at the quickly passing scenery, "And Ah sure as hell don't need your pity."

"It's not pity, or sympathy, or whatever else that would make me feel obligated to ask you here with me." It was just money and a challenge. He decides to use the voice he uses whenever he's leveling with Wanda. The one where he's getting across to her, and not the panicked one that he uses to plead with her not to kill him, "I genuinely want to get to know you, Rogue."

She was still a little suspicious, but shrugged.

"Ah'm not anythin' special."

"Come on. We were the two most interesting characters ever to grace the Brotherhood house. _Ever_. Even those random mutants that every once in awhile break into the house count, and we completely trump them."

Rogue snorted.

"We should go into the vigilante business! I could make you a brand new costume in twenty five seconds flat. Ten of those would go into the design, of course. Not anything too flashy, of course. Pure black? Maybe a coat on top to offset the single tone underneath. You have pretty broad shoulders, though, so that might accentuate it and make you look masculine. Which you're-not, of-course. Unless-you-want-to-be. A long coat would be good. And the uniform underneath should have a nice shape to it. High necks are disgusting with coats. Ew, imagine Jean's ugly costume, only add a coat on top of that and-make-it-even-_uglier._ How do you feel about corsets? Nah, nobody can go into a vigilante service with a _corset _on. Unless-they-were-some-perverted-superhero-in-a-comic-book-called-Dominatrixa-or-something. You can just have the shape of a sweetheart corset on your uniform. We should give it straps too, then. Nobody-likes-accidentally-flashing-people-when-they're-saving-them." He said all of this in about ten seconds, leaving Rogue blinking to catch up with the dialogue in her mind.

"Ah'm fine with the X-Men, thanks. And with mah uniform." That sent Pietro on a rant.

"Who-designs-all-of-your-costumes-anyway? I mean, Lance's is pretty bad. I-have-no-idea-_where-_the-hell-he-got-that-ugly-dome-costume, but you guys... The only-thing-that-prevents-me-from-gauging-out-my-eyes-is-the-fact-that-all-the-girls-are-wearing-skintight-spandex. But-it's-like-something-out-of-some-cheesy-comic-from-the-late-eighties-early-nineties. I-mean, this-is-a-new-decade-of-better-fashion, where-chicks-wearing-shoulder-pads-are-shot-and-buried!"

Rogue observed to road, wondering how many bones she would fracture going at the speed they were if she jumped out of the car. Thank god she actually paid attention in math. And that she absorbed Mr. McCoy that one time. Although she never learned how to factor in how many bones were in the human body, but she figured if she angled herself just right, she could land somewhere in between her ass and the flat of her back, maybe tucking her arms in and landing on her side? She'd only get a few ugly bruises that way.

"Roguey? Are-you-listening-to-me-anymore? I-was-just-saying-that-the-bad-ass-skintight-spandex-would-look-better-if-it-were-more-Matrix-than-the-circus-military-whatever-you've-got-going-on-now."

"Sure." Rogue said absentmindedly. That boy sure knew how to ramble.

**Author's Note: **So Remy basically wins Rogue's affections in the polls by a lot to one. Sorry, one. Maybe I'll make another story for you where Pietro is actually in Rogue's good graces. Someday. Two were kind enough to Pietro to suggest some people for him to get all lovey-dovey with, which were X-23 and Tabitha. You can feel free to leave your opinions in a review, but the ending is pretty much set in my head. Not that the ending will come about anytime soon, of course. We're just getting started.


	5. Excuses, Excuses

Lunchtime at Bayville High

Rogue was sitting underneath her favorite tree. It was a nice tree, big and filled with lots of nice branches, kind of like at her old home down in the South. She sometimes had urges to climb the tree and hide in the lots of nice branches with the big green leaves everywhere. Not that she ever would. She'd sit underneath her tree, reading Cry to Heaven and looking tough and Gothic and intimidating.

"Y' mopin' 'gain, _cherie_?" A familiar voice asked.

Her head snapped up and looked at him in shock.

"What the hell are _you _doin' here!?" She asked. More like yelled with a question mark tacked on at the end.

"Y' blew dis Cajun off yesterday, Rogue. Feelin's got hurt." Remy smirked, pointing to his heart, "Wanna kiss it and make it better?"

"Not on yoah life." Rogue sneered, snapping her book shut, "Now answer meh. Why ya here?"

"Heard y' went on a date yesterday." Remy squatted down in front of Rogue, elbows resting on his knees and staring her right in the face. His shades were the only thing keeping their eyes from meeting, "Y' wouldn't be doin' dis t' spite Remy, would y'?"

His shades and her makeup and his arrogance and her boundary issues and all the rest of the air in between them.

"It ain't any of yoah business what Ah do." She said, before adding in, "And it wasn't a date."

"Did he drive y'?" Remy asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Cars are used foah transportation." Rogue said sarcastically.

"Where'd he take y'?"

"Food. Dumbass. _Damn _good food." Damn albino. He took advantage of Rogue's love for food. So he wanted to play dirty, huh?

"Did he pay?"

"No. I took care of mah half." She sniffed. Rogue was no mooch. Nevermind that she was living in a fancy mansion with all the food and expenses taken care of, and that she received an allowance for clothes and other such things.

"Hm.." Remy considered. Rogue didn't seem to think much of the albino, usually. But if she would go places with him, alone, and _not _to fight him? Was she just that accepting of bad guys? Remy thought that he might have been special. Her heart was just big and soft and squishy.

"What?" She asked impatiently.

"Den would y' be kind 'nough t' accompany dis Cajun t' some o' de best food y' ever tasted in y' _life_?"

"Ah sincerely doubt that, Swamp Rat." Rogue snorted, "Ah doubt both me acceptin' yoah request and the part about it bein' the best Cajun food evah. Ah _been _ta N'Awlins when Ah was a kid. Any crap heah'll just make meh sad."

"Don' worry, _cherie. _Dis gon' be authentic food."

"Ah don't think so, Cajun. Wouldn't wanna get yoah hopes up that it's a date."

"What about de _petit blanc batard, hein_?" Remy smirked, "Bet he's braggin' t'all his _amies _'bout how he got a date wit' de untouchable."

Rogue's eyes narrowed.

"Ah ain't goin' anywhere wit' ya, swamp rat."

"_Desole, cherie_. Remy jus' jealous." Remy pouted cutely.

Except he was a full grown man, so he just looked a bit pathetic in Rogue's eyes.

She informed him so.

"C'mon, _chere. _Don't y' want hot, steamin' jambalaya? Don't y' miss de smell of all dem spices in de air? Remy knows y' want de shrimp. Everybody enjoys shrimp."

Rogue was almost salivating at the thought of all the food.

She shook her head to snap out of the food-induced trance.

"Ah ain't goin' _nowhere_ with ya." She repeated.

"Kitty can come along, if ya really dat scared of Remy." He leaned forward, tilted his head back a little arrogantly. Took off his sunglasses and stared at her with those shining crimson eyes.

"Ah ain't scared of _anything_." She says through gritted teeth. Her anger shoots to rapid levels. She's about to get violent.

"Den prove it, _cherie_. After y' little school Remy'll pick y' up and y' can taste de best Cajun food y' ever gon' get."

She smirks. Kneels forward. Gets in his face. He smirks back. Leans so close they're practically touching.

"How bout it, Rogue?" He whispers and her smirk fades as his breath ghosts across her lips.

She pushes him away and he sprawls on the ground chuckling all the way. He raises himself onto his elbows and smiles at her.

"_Oui ou non?_ What y' say? Y' drivin' dis Cajun _fou _wit' de suspense."

"Maybe Ah will. Ah'm in a generous mood." Rogue shrugs, standing up and putting a heavy boot on the Cajun's chest, smirking as he falls back down the ground. He doesn't let out an, 'oof!' like anybody else would. He had already expected her to do something like that.

He just smirks at her.

"O' course when y' in a generous mood y' gon' be takin' food. It's common sense." He teases lightly, acting as if he weren't on the ground being held down by her boot at all.

"Of course." She shrugs as if it weren't sarcasm he was dealing out.

She takes her foot off of his chest, but pushes down hard first with a poor excuse in her mind. Like gaining momentum. That excuse works.

"But ya better pick meh up quick." Rogue smirks, "Else Ah'm standin' you up."

"Remy'll be waitin' and ready fo' y', _cherie_." Remy's own smirk turns into a smile, "Always will."

She sneers and kicks him again, with the excuse that she had an urge to be violent towards him.

* * *

Kitty was innocently waiting in the parking lot for all the kids to show up so they could drive home. And waiting for Ray, the designated driver. Not that she wasn't fully capable of driving herself. But, like the kitchen, the instructors at the Institute had banned her from the driver's seat. _Totally _unfair, in her opinion. She was a wonderful driver and a pretty good chef if she said so herself.

Yeah, she didn't excel in those subjects like she did with all her others. And yes, cooking was the only class that she didn't have an A in. (She would have gotten an A+ in computers, but for an extra credit project that she had forgotten the actual assignment for, she accidentally hacked her way into NASA. And if it were her grade or her spending the rest of her life in a cold, dark cell, she would pick just a regular A.)

Pietro zipped in front of her and she rolled her eyes.

"Like, what do you want?" She asked in a rude tone. Normally she would be alot nicer when people would approach her smiling. But this was Pietro, the Brotherhood jackass. She had been insulted enough by him for him to be on her list of people to be rude to.

"Ooh, kitten's got claws." Pietro joked, zipping to her other side when she tried to hit him, "Hey, Kitty Cat, do you know-where-Rogue-is?" Pietro grinned charmingly and rested his elbow on the hood of the X-Van. Dork-Van was more like it. He would have called it the Dork-Kidnapper-Van, but it was painted black. So it was the Dorksmobile. No, wait, Cyclop's ride was the Dorksmobile, because of the resemblance to the Batmobile in basic shape. The Dork-van would have to remain the Dork-van.

Kitty seemed to lose all her animosity, now that she knew that Pietro wouldn't try and start a fight. She was sweet like that.

"Rogue? Nah, I thought she was, like, with you." Kitty shrugged, "She told me she was going out for food again."

"Well she-isn't-with-me, and-she-isn't-with-you, and other-than-us-mutants-or-you-mutants-she's-completely-friendless. So where-is-she!?" Pietro was getting impatient. Here he is trying to steal her away again and seduce the harsh exterior off of her so he can take the soft squishy insides that were her feelings and dangle them in front of Lance cackling that he could seduce _anybody _and Lance was stuck with stupid valley girl X-Dweeb Kitty and his seducee wasn't even here for him to seduce!

A motorcycle starting was heard.

Nobody native to Bayville was cool enough for a motorcycle.

Pietro's head snapped dramatically to where he heard the sound, and saw Rogue put on a forest green helmet before clinging to the waist of a trenchcoat wearing red helmet wielding loser and the two of them peeled out of the school driveway.

Pietro was very angry.

"Wow, like, it's about _time_." Kitty rolled her eyes.

"What!? What's-about-time?!" Pietro exclaimed.

"Well, they've been flirting for_ever_. And I, like, don't know what you're trying to pull with her, but he's like, a thousand times better for her than you. So drop it."

Pietro narrowed his eyes and was about to say something incredibly stupid, before they were interrupted.

"Who vas that driving off vithRogue?" Kurt asked, teleporting next to Kitty and pointing hurriedly at the pair speeding down the street.

"That was, like, Rogue's friend." Kitty shrugged.

Ah ha. It was a secret.

"Rogue has friends?!" Kurt exclaimed, "But I thought she didn't hang out vith anyone! She von't even participate in zeh sibling obstacle course next weekend!"

"Cause everyone else signing up for that is, I dunno,_ five_." Bobby teased, appearing next to them and bumping Kurts elbow, "Hey! Pietro, right? Nice seeing you outta the battlefield!"

"Sorry-that-I-can't-say-the-same." Pietro sneered, "And-that-was-_Gambit_-you-saw-taking-your-precious-little-Rogue-_God_-knows-where-because-he's-a-devious-little-fucker. If-you'll-excuse-me."

He zipped away.

"Pietro! You, like, stupid jerk!" Kitty yelled angrily as Bobby was completely shocked and Kurt started swearing in German.

"Ve have to go after zem!" Kurt yelled, "Who knows what dat man vill do to _mein schwester!_"

"He'll just like, take her out for a nice meal and flirt with her the whole time." Kitty rolled her eyes, "Geez, not everything is diabolical and evil."

"But he's kidnapping her!"

"Yeah, that's why she, like, got on the motorcycle in the first place. He threatened to like, feed her."

"Zis is _Gambit! _He's an acolyte! He _kidnapped _her!"

"And he, like, likes her! And they're going out on a date! And they don't need _your _permission!"

Bobby had yet to say anything.

"Have you not heard about zis guy? He's kind of _evil_!"

"I can't believe you honestly think he's evil! I mean, yeah, if it were _Sabretooth _I would understand. But Remy's like, a total sweetie. He was so jealous yesterday when he found out Pietro was on a date with Rogue--"

"_Pietro _went out with Rogue yesterday? _Zats _where she was!?"

Bobby was even more shocked.

"And that's why Pietro was, like, so pissy right now! Remy like, obviously made a comeback. And the two have, like, _so _much chemistry."

"Rogue..." Bobby said slowly, "Is a _player_?"

"What?" Kitty asked, laughing, "No _way. _I mean, yeah, Remy and Pietro are after her. But she's, like, rejecting them all the time."

Bobby started thinking. And when Bobby starts thinking, it's a very bad sign.

Rogue and him were pretty close. And she was pretty cool. And yeah, she was a year or two older than him. But older women were _cool. _And they were pretty tight. A lot tighter than the two guys she was rejecting them all the time.

And she was an _older woman_.

Bobby liked that idea. The way he's going, he's going to die a virgin anyways. And he's a diabolical prankster! He could find ways around skin contact.

And so Bobby decided to be very stupid.

It was like a domino affect, really.

See, he had a best friend. Ray. And the two, like most best friends, were rivals that competed with each other for _everything_. When Jubilee was living in the mansion, Ray was the one who got a crush first. And then Bobby started seeing her good points and got a crush too. And then the two competed like crazy for her affections.

Bobby liked to think that he won.

Ray liked to think that _he_ won.

Jubilee's friends thought that they were very very stupid and giggled over the other boys in the mansion instead.

And they were.

Stupid, that is.

They just failed to realize that fact.

* * *

"So where you takin' me, Cajun?" Rogue asked, yelling not out of anger but to be heard over the roaring engine of the motorcycle.

"Don' y' be worryin' none," Remy yelled right back, casually ignoring her question, "Y' safe wit' Remy."

That stupid vague loser. She pouts a bit.

And then frowns when they pull into an apartment complex.

"Where the hell are we?" She asks slowly.

He says nothing but drives into the large garage, getting off and taking a bow.

"Welcome t' Remy's humble abode." He takes the helmet off of his head and for a second is blind. In that second, Rogue leaps off of the motorcycle and punches him in the jaw, "_Merde!"_

She felt that her actions were entirely justified.


	6. The Madness Begins

"So..." Rogue started, swirling the straw around in her drink. He had introduced her to the 'wine cabinet', which was more like a liquor cabinet, and stocked completely with cognac. Maybe one bottle of wine that was so old that the Logan in her head was practically salivating for it. Anything to get this body good and drunk, something that his healing factor made difficult. Logan had forgotten that this was _Rogue's _body, fragile teenage _student _Rogue body, and her senses were heightened to the point where she could smell the alcohol in the cabinet, even though it was wrapped up tightly and she was a good fifteen feet away.

She shook her head and opted for anything that wouldn't have her giggling and flushed in the face like a bleached blond bimbo. The only other liquid refreshment he had was a pack of juice boxes in the fridge. Apple-grape.

"_Oui, mon chere?_" Remy asks from the kitchen.

It's a quaint little place he's got. Nice and cozy. A little living room with four doors. A kitchen, a bathroom, a closet, and a bedroom. The bare essentials. Completely unlike the lavish apartment/loft she was expecting.

She voiced this thought when they first came in, and he said in a mysterious voice that he was known for doing the unexpected. She hid her blush with a rude scoff and then rudely plopped herself down on his sofa in a very rude flop without being asked to sit first.

"Ah dunno." She shrugged roughly, "Jus' makin' conversation."

"Dat surprisin'!" Remy exclaims, coming into the living room and wiping his hands on the little "Kiss the Cook" apron he was wearing. She allowed herself a chuckle at his expense. "Usually Remy be de one leadin' all the small talk. Y' warmin' up t' dis Cajun?"

"Just make the food." Rogue growled, not in the mood for conversation now that he was an active participant. Maybe that was the way their conversations went, and she had, out of habit, brought out his annoying side.

"De food be simmerin' fo' a while, _cherie._ Got some bread, t'ough, if y' wan' snack o' somet'in'."

She bit her lip in thought, completely unaware of how attractive that made her, and Remy tried not to act as if he was completely mesmerized by her every movement. Her gloved fingers drumming on the arm of her sofa, her legs unfolding and then refolding and tucking themselves into the other side of the chair, barely grazing the corner of the coffee table in front of her. She tilted her head to look at him and the diamond chandelier above her was dull compared to the shine in that strip of white hair. He felt almost as sickening as Henri, his brother, looked when he was trying to court Mercy.

"What kinda bread?" She asks, snapping him out of his trance and into a response.

"De best, _chere_. Homemade. _Mon tante _back in N'Awlins taught m'. Remy was de _petit protege _o' _ma maison_." He says, all arrogance and charm, just like usual.

"I'm thrilled for you. Honestly." She said dryly, implying that she wasn't being honest in the slightest.

He rolled his eyes playfully and went back in the kitchen, coming back with a bowl of sliced up bread with little herb flecks in it, and a plate of butter. Rogue took a bite out of one, peeling off her glove first and slathering it with butter, and sighed. That was some damn good bread.

"Like it, _chere_?"

She looked at him in a surprised fashion, almost forgetting that he was there. She composed herself quickly and gave him a disinterested glance.

"It's bread." She shrugged, taking a large bite out of it and trying not to show him how much she was enjoying it. God, she missed good food. Good, fatty, Southern food where they weren't all health-conscious like Kitty, insisting on pita bread and fat-free _sour cream _and something that she could really believe was not butter at all_. _What chemical sludge was in her not-butter? How can cream be fat free? What was it now?

"No need t' hide it or not'in', Rogue." Remy sat next to her on his comfy black leather couch, forcing her legs to shrink in upon themselves, his arms stretching back and barely touching her. Kind of like a test of her wills, daring her to back away. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "Remy knows he make de best food in dis godforsaken town."

"Right." She says in what was supposed to be a sarcastic manner, but instead came out like a fact. And it was true, the talented arrogant bastard.

They stayed like that for a bit, content to just bask in the warmth of his fireplace and each other's company.

Rogue gazes around the apartment once more and her eyes land on an old little thing in the corner, deep red and tall but not towering and narrow. A piano. A real, genuine antique piano.

"Ya have a piano?" She asks, almost amazed.

"_Oui_. Ain't one of dem new ones, eit'er. If Remy tried t' tune it t' de modern key, it'd break."

"Modern key?"

"'Fore dey had radio, when everyone just played t' dere own tune and nobody was connected. Dis 'bout half a note lower den universal standards."

"Ya know alot 'bout music?"

"Remy knows lots 'bout a little bit of everything."

She could see a hint of some brass instrument hiding behind the piano and snorted.

"So predictable. Jazzman from N'awlins with the black shades and the crooked grin playin' the piano and tootin' the horn while sippin' cognac. C'mon. Surprise me."

"Y' surprisin' enough fo' de bot' of us." He laughs, standing up again and leaving her legs feeling cold and abandoned. She didn't dare voice that complaint. "De food should be ready now. Remy don' have a dinner table. 'S it fine if we eat here?"

"Whatevah." She was already here, in her comfortable leather seat, and wouldn't move to a dinner table for the life of her. Plus, if she was here, then Remy would sit next to her, and she would be warm again.

Ick. Sappy, hormonal teenage puke.

He balanced steaming pots and plates and cutlery, looking every bit like a seductive devil waiter from hell even _with _the corny apron, and set all of it on the coffee table. Surprisingly, it didn't collapse from the strain of all the food he had made in what, an hour? He really was the devil.

"Y' wanna glass for dat juice dere?" Remy chuckled, taking a sip out of his own drink while taking off his apron with the other hand. Alcohol. Figures.

He sat next to her, graceful and only in black slacks and a dark shirt that wasn't as tight as those neon mesh shirts you saw in clubs but hugged every inch of him and made her want to drool. Her mind went on a little vacation while her eyes took in the sight of the walking, or rather, _sitting _sex. If she wasn't poisonous, she would jump him right here and now. If only she met him _before _her powers manifested.

She wasn't as tolerant with annoying personalities like his, of course, but she was pretty sure that if they ever met, and if she did jump him, he wouldn't be as arrogant an asshole in bed. It was a complete mood spoiler. He wouldn't spout cheesy third-person one liners while they did it, would they? No, that would probably be Pietro, minus the third person. 'Oh, I bet you're feeling _great_, aren't you? Of course you are! You're graced with my presence, aren't you? I mean, only about every other girl in Bayville has had me. You should feel lucky that I've had enough people to get down to _you_. Hey! Where are you going!?'

She started laughing and Remy was very confused. Just a minute ago she was ogling him, and for once not trying very hard to hide it, and now she was _laughing_? He knew it wasn't about his physique, because he was sure his body was pretty damn near perfect. Unlike that stocky albino brat trying to make a move on Rogue. He, unlike Remy, was _far _from perfect. He was a spoiled little daddy's boy who couldn't do _shit_ right. And he would never be interested in a girl like Rogue. And if he did, well, someone of his standards didn't deserve Rogue.

"Somet'in' funny, _chere_?"

Rogue sobered up and started shoveling food onto her plate. Delicious, delicious food.

"Just thinkin'." She explains roughly, as if she didn't even realize she had been laughing out loud. The girl was so used to her masks she didn't even notice how relaxed she had gotten around Remy. If Remy felt like being a sap, he would say he was honored.

* * *

Bobby Drake was a curious, curious fellow. Some might say he was even _strange. _Crazy, if you were bold in your assumptions.

That was certainly the conclusion that Ray drew as he walked in on his best friend and roommate. Or roommate and unwilling best friend. Ray knew how the pattern went. Kitty and Rogue were roommates. Kitty and Rogue were best friends, even though Rogue, the cool one, could hardly stand Kitty half the time. Like Ray could hardly stand Bobby half the time.

Kurt and Evan _were _roommates, before Evan got a makeover and ran away to the sewers, and best friends. Sam and Roberto? Roommates. And best friends. Scott and Jean had _no _roommates. They were best friends. And other sickening stuff that Ray didn't want to think about. Amara and Tabitha were roommates, Jubilee and Rahne were roommates, and so on and so forth.

This time, Bobby, his best friend (even though he'd much rather room with Roberto, because his power was very low-maintenance and never destroyed anything on accident,) had thought that instead of using a _regular _whiteboard like _sane _people, or better yet, a sheet of fucking _paper_, Bobby thought it necessary to ice up an entire standing board that he could draw doodles and stick figures on with permanent marker. So when it melted, not only would the floor be _wet, _it would be _stained._ As if their room weren't a shame to Xavier standards already.

"What the fuck, Bobby? You always icin' up to compensate for something, dickwad!?" Ray growled, little tingles of electricity running up and down his skin in anger.

"Shut up, Ray. I'm planning!" Bobby giggled excitedly, sounding manic enough for Ray not to zap him. Ray was angry. Ray was not _stupid_.

"I thought the prank wars ended already." Ray frowned. Bobby usually waited awhile for things to settle down before making an ass out of himself again.

"This isn't for a prank." Bobby explained hurriedly, making an incomprehensible scribble on the ice.

Ray shrugged and put on a jacket over his shirt. His shirt consisted of a wifebeater, a t-shirt, and a button-up shirt. Though someone looking in would think it strange for one person to wear so many layers along with long pants and fuzzy socks, while the other person in the room wore a mid-sleeve shirt and jeans, the fact that the ice diagram wasn't melting even a drop explained everything.

"Jubes always said that if you put your mind to anything other than pranks, it'd probably explode." Ray reminisced.

"Don't worry," Bobby chuckled, "It's just as diabolical."

"Really?" Ray asked, his interest piqued, "Do tell."

"Screw that, man. This isn't gonna be a contest." Sort of. Atleast it wasn't a contest between Ray and him.

"Then you should have no problem telling me." Ray's eyes were dangerous, "Since it's not a contest."

Bobby weighed his options.

He frowned, chewed on the sharpie (which, since he wasn't a hot chick, was disgusting and unhygienic) and appeared very deep in thought.

Ray was very impatient in response.

"Well?" He snapped.

"I'm going to seduce Rogue." Bobby decided, putting his fists on his hips and looking ever bit like someone who would call himself Iceman. Like he was some superhero or something.

"What!?" Ray laughs, causing Bobby to give him a very manly pout, "_You!? Seduce!? Rogue!?_" He asked in a laugh, emphasizing every word enough to warrant italics for all three sentence fragments.

"Shut up! It's going to happen!"

"And what brought it on in the first place?"

"I was... I was just thinking!" Bobby threw up his hands in frustration. What was so funny about it?

"Man, not only is she completely _out of your league, _she's out of any realm of possibility!" Ray laughed, "Do you not even remember what her powers are, Drake? She's fucking angsting about it every second of the day."

"Exactly!" Bobby exclaimed, pointing at Ray as if he just answered the million dollar question correctly.

"Oh, fuck. You're not gonna take advantage of her angst, are you? Cause you're shitty, Bobby, but I didn't know you were _that _shitty."

"No! Of course not!" Ray did _not _answer the million dollar question correctly, apparently, "I meant, dating is fun, right? And she needs fun!"

"What makes you think _you'd _be any good for her, then? I thought her and Pietro were going out."

"They're not!"

"Right."

"They're _not_!"

"That's why I said 'right'."

"But you didn't mean it!"

"It's not like it matters, right? You still don't have a chance. If anything, I'd be better suited for her. We have more in common, after all."

"You wish! The only thing you guys have in common are your tempers!"

"And _she, _unlike _you, _doesn't have the mentality of an obnoxious four year old. On crack. Another thing we have in common."

"I resent that!"

"I resent you."

"That was weak."

"Sorry, I was just thinking of all the things me and the Rogue have in common. That you don't."

"Please. You have less of a chance than I do." Bobby sneered, unaware how it made him sound like he also had no chance.

"Wanna bet?"

"Of course! Loser does the usual."

"The usual in a fucking bra."

"Deal."

And so another bet was made regarding Rogue's love life. At least she had more suitors now than Jean would ever hope to juggle, if that would make the impending situation any more bearable.

It probably wouldn't.

* * *

"Pietro, you little fucker!" Lance exclaimed angrily, shaking the house in his anger. The ensuing damage wasn't noticeable, seeing how Pietro had already zipped through the house in a whirlwind and trashed everything.

"Aw, _man!_" Todd whined from upstairs, "Quickie trashed my room, yo!"

"Not the fridge!" Fred exclaimed, "Pietro, you're dead meat!"

"We go out _once a month, _Pietro! You're the one who ditched us to go off with Rogue. Fuck, we even brought you back a lobster Todd snatched from the kitchens!" Lance tossed the bag they hid the lemon and buttered lobster in at Toad. It was their breakfast now. Fuck Pietro.

"Where is he, man? I wanna pound that face in!" Toad yelled, hopping downstairs and looking around wildly.

"Fucker probably's in Canada by now." Lance growled.

A gust of wind signified Pietro's arrival, and if Lance were cheesy enough he would use the timeless quip, 'Speak of the devil', and actually _mean _it. Pietro was the Speed Demon, after all. However, the gust of wind also brought with it a gust of cleanliness. The broken furniture magically reassembled itself, the wall was as clean as it would ever get, the fridge door reattached itself and the moldy food was thrown away and the salvageable snacks were put back in their boxes, germs be damned. After the house was as clean as it had been in months, Pietro appeared in front of all of them, arrogant smirk on his face and a bottle of quick drying superglue in his hand.

"Are we supposed to be impressed?" Lance asked, collapsing down onto the couch.

"No!" Pietro huffed, dropping the hands from his sides and zipping over next to Lance.

"What brought on the wave of destruction, yo?" The Brotherhood boys were quick to forget their urge to see Pietro's head on a plate and all crowded around the television. Pietro had studied engineering a while back for a few hours, and was now an expert in repairing television sets.

"Nothing." Pietro pouted.

Fred enveloped him in a large, bone-crushing hug.

"Aah! Fred! Let go, youignorantlug! I need... my lungs... to... survive!" Pietro was not slowing down. He was talking at a slower pace, which was arguably a normal pace, because his lungs were unable to be graced with the presence of _air. _He felt a little bit like a hummingbird, stuck in the fist of an ignorant human and feeling his heart slow down, his wings unable to beat properly, and eventually dying.

"There." Fred set him down with surprising gentleness compared to his deadly hug, "Did that make you feel better?"

Afraid of the various other ways Fred would try and comfort him, Pietro warily nodded.

"It's Rogue, isn't it?" Lance smirked.

"It is not!" Pietro denied.

"Kitty told me how you stormed off afterschool when Rogue drove off with Gambit." Stupid Lance and his stupid gossiping girlfriend. Why couldn't they break up again?

"I did not storm off! I went. To brainstorm. It's all fine now."

"Yeah. You're just gonna lose to daddy's little lackey, aren't you?" Lance mocked.

"Man, I heard that foo' went to the mall on his bike, and when he took off his helmet, all the ladies _swooned_."

"Swooned?" Pietro snorted.

"Fo' sho'."

"Maybe they-just-collapsed from the stench of his goddawful-unhygienic-cigarettes. Or that stupid-suffocating cologne."

Todd snorted. Like Pietro could talk about _cologne_.

"Just don't worry about it. I have everything under control. _Everything_."

Pietro started cackling madly, loudly, and very fast.

The Brotherhood boys were very scared.


	7. Iceman Attempt Numero One

"Rogue!" Logan barked as soon as she stepped into the mansion.

She resisted a sarcastic quip and raised an eyebrow that, while she didn't mean to, had just as much of a rebellious impact than any sarcastic quip she could have come up with.

"Where the hell have you been? Curfew's at eight on school days. It's nine."

"Ah was out havin' dinner. Lost track of time. Sorry." She shrugs.

He takes a long sniff, and even though she walked through that wiccan store with all the incense after pelting herself with her body spray, he growls. And she then gulps. Going out with Pietro was okay. He smelled like stolen cologne and fresh grass and little, insignificant scents that were as passing as the wind he was frequently compared to. Remy smelled of cigarettes and alcohol and spice and all the things that tended to really linger. And he so enjoyed invading her personal space.

"Jeez, what have you been rolling around in?" He wrinkles his nose and waves a hand to try and break up all of the smells bombarding him. Smoke and flowers and... tobacco.. alcohol, but not the cheap stuff with the low alcohol levels. The big heavy stuff that would _really _rot your liver. Not on her, but around her. Hints of leather, spices, and... _Gumbo._

"_Who _the hell have you been with?" He growls, already having an inkling of an idea. That strong smell of worthless filth wasn't one you forgot easily. He smelled of everything you wouldn't want a girl you thought of like your daughter to be around, though he himself enjoyed those things immensely in his spare time.

"You already know, don't you?" She snaps, the reluctant feeling of happiness from being around Remy quickly dissipating.

"You're right." He growls again. He should have gutted the worthless slimeball the moment he saw him. The moment Rogue looked up at him after grabbing his clawed hand ready to skewer and gave him that _look _down in New Orleans. The one that all the female students in the mansion had seemed to learn that tugged him around like some pushover that didn't have three adamantium claws in each fist.

"You're not seeing him again." He decides.

"The hell I ain't!" Rogue wasn't called _Rogue _because she thought it sounded pretty, although she did think it sounded pretty cool. She had an X-Man heart, but she definitely got her stubborn, and violent, streak from her adoptive mother.

"This ain't negotiable, Stripes."

"Who says? Ah cin hang out wherever Ah want with whoever Ah want!" She yells, some part of her realizing that she sounds like some spoiled brat teenager hanging out with the wrong crowd. But Remy wasn't the _wrong _crowd. He was just... an annoying crowd. Like Pietro.

"Not when they _kidnapped _you and smuggled you across state borders down to New Orleans!"

"Ah'm pretty sure Ah can judge somebody's character well enough." Rogue snapped. Will people stop bringing that up already?

"I spent my whole life judging characters, and I know that type well enough to know that he's no good."

"The life that you _remember, _that is."

"I remember a helluva lot more years than you ever had, runt." Logan growled, warning Rogue that she was pushing her limits.

"Ah've got more lifetimes than you can believe up here!" Rogue shouts, paying no attention to the crowd at the top of the stairs.

"Who? Magneto, the _Cajun, _the Brotherhood more times than I can count--They're not exactly winnin' you any points there, darlin'."

"So you're sayin' you trust me as well as you do them?"

Oh shit. The girl is tearing up.

"No.... I'm saying that when I say a boy is no good for you, you gotta listen to me." He says carefully, his hands out as if he's about to defend himself from a wild animal. Only worse: a _teenage girl._

"Listen to you? You ain't mah father!" She snaps, sidestepping him and running up the stairs, where the crowd immediately parted for her.

A moment of silence passes, while he's forced to listen to all of the whispering upstairs.

"_Wow, Rogue's got some major authority issues."_

_"I could never stand up to Mr. Logan like that."_

_"Does Rogue.... have a father?"_

_"Wait, she was with Quicksilver, right?"_

_"No, Logan said something about New Orleans. That's Gambit, for sure."_

_"She's not gonna turn on us, is she?"_

_"Of course not! She's our teammate, how can you even think that!"_

_"Well, she only joined us cause of Mystique, right? What if, now that Mystique isn't in Bayville anymore..."_

_"You're crazy."_

_"She's the one who's hanging out with the enemy."_

_"Just shut up and go to bed."_

_"Bitch, make me."_

_"Fine!"_

_"Ow! I didn't mean literally!"_

_"She's not really gonna turn on us, right? I'd hate fighting her. Fights with her always end with me hurt. Or unconscious. Or both."  
_

He hated teenagers.

* * *

_Rogue was sitting in a chair. It was a very comfortable chair, with a nice soft cushion for her derriere, and it was just the right height so her feet touched the ground perfectly._

_She was far from comfortable, though. _

_It was her turn to talk.  
_

_"Mah name... Mah name is Rogue, an'... an' Ah'm a mutant." Rogue admitted shyly, putting a hand to her chest in shame._

_"Hi Rogue." The support group said encouragingly. A bunch of silhouettes and cheery unrecognizable voices._

_Their voices gave her confidence.  
_

_"An', well, I'm also uncomfortable bein' in close proximity with anyone. Both in mind and body. Cause my powers suck the life out of ya, and Ah've been used so many times Ah just have a hard time--"_

_"Whoa whoa whoa, Roguey, Roguey, you can stop with the tortured soul bit, okay?" Pietro, sitting next to her, put his hands up in an attempt to stop her._

_"What?"_

_"'S sad, but true. Y' broodiness is a bit offsettin'." Remy, who was in the chair on her other side, invaded her personal space a bit more than Pietro, leaning over and putting his gloved thumb on her mouth, effectively shutting her up. For a second before she smacked it away._

_"Ah don't care 'bout yo' opinions!" She stood up angrily and glared at Remy with all the venom she could muster._

_"Hey, hey, hey! Relax, Rogue, this is a friendly environment. No need to make it a negative one." Pietro soothed, pulling her by the sleeve and settling her back into her chair._

_"Shut the fuck up, you white rat! The fuck are y'all tryin' ta pull, anyhow!?"_

_"That sounded a bit racist." Pietro pouted._

_"Don' need t' get all defensive, __chere. We tryin' t' help y' become a better person."_

_"Yeah. Haven't you always wanted to be a better person? Like Jean?"_

_A marble statue of Jean in the lotus position erected itself in the center of their circle of chairs. Empty chairs. Only the three of them were in the room. The statue floated in the center, glowing like the __statue had a fucking halo. Only then did Rogue notice how dark everywhere else was. Especially the spot she was sitting. Hell, the only thing other than the statue she could see clearly were Remy's glowing eyes and Pietro's stark white gelled hair._

_She couldn't see anything of hers at all._

_"As if." Rogue stood up harshly, beginning to stalk away._

_"Right! Go! Go to your room and blast My Chemical Romance! Go and write your emo poetry! Paint your nails and wear rings-even-though-your-gloves-always-cover-them-up! Cause-it's-__so-hard-growing-tits, right?"_

_"Mah tits are already grown, thank ya very much! And Ah'm fuckin' proud of them!"_

_A moment of silence passes, filled with Rogue glaring at them and the two boys leering at her chest._

_Remy's the first one to snap out of it._

_"Y' don' have t' run away, __chere. 'S lonely out dere on y'own."_

And then she woke up.

That was, by far, the most disturbing dream she had ever had.

* * *

"Hey, Rogue!" Bobby ran up to her cheerily, ditching his friends to be with her and her broody self.

"Bobby." She nods, acknowledging his presence before spinning the knob on her lock.

"Wanna eat lunch with me today?"

She pauses in the spinning of her lock and gives him a questioning look, eyebrow raised and face filled with skepticism.

"I mean, cause you've been eating alone lately, so I was wondering if you wanted some company?" He clarifies.

"Ah don't think your group is much mah preferred company." She looks over to 'his group', where Sam is balancing a textbook on his nose, Roberto and Ray are helping him by piling _more _textbooks onto him, and Jubilee is popping an obnoxious amount of gum trying to blow the biggest bubble in the world.

"Maybe just you and me then?" He asks, wondering if he's ever going to say something not worded into a question.

She gives him one of those rare smiles, and like a girl he goes a little weak in the knees.

"Ah appreciate the offer, Bobby, but," Her locker opens and she grabs her books before looking at him again, "Ah really need the time to myself."

She shuts the locker and, if it were anyone else but Bobby, the hope of any chance for them to be together, but Bobby was a fighter.

"Maybe some other time." He grins cheerily as she walks away, not really listening to him at all.

Pietro quickly zips by, Bobby's notebook flying into the air, and catches up to Rogue.

Bobby yells out in anger, both at the scattered pages of his disorganized notebook that he used more as a folder than anything, and the fact that he saw Quicksilver had his arm around Rogue for _three seconds _before she shoved him off.

Then considered yelling again, since instead of at least avoiding the papers on the ground like decent people, the mutant-hating scumbags trampled all over his stuff. And called him a freak as he was picking it up.

He hated life.

* * *

"So, Roguey."

Rogue rolled her eyes and shoved off Pietro's grabby arm.

"What?" She snapped, her tone doing a complete 180 from when she was talking to Bobby.

"You. Me. Early dinner late lunch?"

"Can't." Rogue huffs.

"Why not?" Pietro said, an inch away from whining. But Rogue did not like whiners. Rogue punched whiners very hard in an attempt to make them stop whining.

"Got grounded for breaking curfew. Lahke Ah can't be trusted tah take care of mahself." She mutters, punching a locker and scaring everyone around her.

"Whoa, Roguey, what's got your panties in a twist?" Pietro asks warily, careful not to mention any of yesterday's happenings. When she ditched him for that dirty no-good son of an ugly swamp alligator. And _broke curfew _with him.

"Nothin'!" She yells before shaking her head, holding a hand to her forehead, "Nothin', Ah just... There's a whole debate team in mah head arguin' over every action Ah take, and now Logan, who's already yellin' at me in mah head over what tah do, is tryin' tah..."

"Control you like the voices in your head?" He offers, seeming not bothered at all that he was attempting to woo a basket case.

"And it makes meh so angry!" She huffs, crossing her arms.

"Why don't you just join the Brotherhood then?" Please please don't actually do it. She'd find out about the bet from those losers and kill him! "No rules, no curfew, and we don't care what the hell you do!"

"Ah wish," She shook her head, "Naw, Ah'm just gettin' angry over nothin'. They just care, right?"

Pietro shrugged. Rogue sighed in response. The two didn't have much experience with things like _caring_.

"It's nice there, Pietro. The rules are a hassle, but bein' cared about..." She trails off as they approach her classroom, one that he does not share with her, "Ah really need that in mah life."

She walks away from him, too, and Pietro is amazed. For all those people in her head, she was as ignorant to the truth as Wanda was.

As if the Brotherhood wouldn't have cared about her just as much as the X-Men.

He zipped away to his class before the bell rang. He may have been badass, but he was a badass with a perfect attendance record.

Author's Note: No Remy in this chapter?! How could I!? No worries. He'll be having more than enough screen time in the future.


	8. The Twelve Days of Christmas

**DAY ONE**

Remy LeBeau was... Bored.

It was very depressing for him.

Usually, he would spend this time (the time Rogue spent at school or sleeping or having dinner,) thieving, planning his thievery, or planning how he would make Rogue his. Basically, his life was thievery and Rogue. He ignored how sad that sounded.

Now, however, he had that antsy feeling that he got right before a difficult heist. Only, instead of _minutes _before, it was _hours _before he would be able to sneak into the mansion.

He needed to do _something_.

He walked around the base, only expecting to see Pyro laughing his ass off over something trivial and repetitive, and was not surprised in the least when Pyro staggered a little ways down the hall, screaming and bumping into the wall, dripping a red liquid and a sword in his chest. But the sword was tucked underneath his arm, seen clearly from only a good fifty yards away, and the sword was a plastic pirate sword that the team had bought him from Toys R Us to keep him entertained.

Remy didn't know if the blood was real or not. But he didn't care much. Remy was _anxious, _and that left him no room to care about others.

His antsy feeling was quickly explained when a dark, bulky figure jumped down from the vents and attempted to stomp down on him as if this were some _movie _where stunts like that worked and would actually _surprise _a master thief.

Remy spinned away and laughed when he saw the Wolverine snarling at him, claws extended.

"T' what do I owe de pleasure, _m'seur _Wolverine?" He whipped out his bo staff and twirled it around for show, keeping his eyes on those claws of the badgers.

"This is your first and only warning, even though you shoulda had a clue when I was this close," He held up two fingers, his claws still sticking out of his fist, "to gutting your ass back down in Louisiana."

"An' what dat be?" Remy asked curiously, staying light on his feet in case he had to run away.

Pyro, he had noted, had run away in fear of the man.

Surprising.

"I get a whiff of your scent on Rogue again, you're _dead_."

Remy laughed, and decided to reference the whole apocalypse fiasco and poke at the Wolverine's bruised ego.

"_Desole, m'seur_ Wolvie. Remy didn' realize playin' mediator t'you and de fierce _chat_ would get him in y' bad graces. Next time he'll let y' two rip each other t' shreds while tryin' t' save deh _fille _y' usually so adamant 'bout protectin'."

Logan snarled.

"One good deed compared to kidnapping, thieving, working for an international terrorist... You're just made to be on my bad list. And unless you want to get on my _dead _list, you'll stay the hell away from Rogue."

Remy stroked his chin, and almost wished John hadn't run away so he could, one: shriek in that terrified way he did whenever the badger was near and start clutching at his flamethrower as if it were a baby, or two: get jealous of how Remy could grow facial hair and he himself could not.

"Remy'll t'ink 'bout it."

And Logan lost his temper.

* * *

"So, it's Christmas." Pietro says, looking at Rogue as if that actually meant something to her.

A moment of silence passes and Rogue slams her locker shut.

The last period of the day and she just can't go home and rest. She has to stay and talk with the white-haired annoyance, and she wasn't even getting food out of it.

"No, actualleh, it isn't. It's the fourteenth."

"Actually, it _is_. The whole month is Christmas. Even before that. Christmas started the day after Thanksgiving."

"Ah don't believe that. Ah would _kill _myself if Ah started believing that."

"But school break starts in _three days._ It has to be Christmas _sometime. _Pretty soon I won't be able to have such intellectually stimulating conversations with you in front of your locker, will I?"

"No, Ah suppose you won't." Thank god.

"So I got you a gift!"

"Ya shouldn't have."

"Oh, don't be so modest."

"No, Ah mean really. You shouldn't have."

Pietro pouted.

"Well, why not?"

"Well, Ah'm prolly not gon' get you one back."

"What?!" Pietro was mildly greedy when it came to material possessions, "What do you mean you're not going to give me a gift back?"

"Well, the mall is hell. The only shit Ah bother gettin' fo' people, Ah already got. And Ah didn't get shit for you."

Pietro was lost for words.

No, that was a lie. He was never lost for words. That statement was just something he was using to convey his shock.

"But… but _why_?"

"Oh mah gawd, why won't you just let it go? Just keep yoah gift for yourself, okay?"

"No."

"No?"

"Because I had a plan! And I'm not going to compromise that plan because you're a cheapskate!"

"Ah'm not cheap!"

"Oh really? Well you sure are lazy! I mean, I'm planning on giving you _twelve gifts._ And you're not even saying thank you?"

"What--twelve gifts? What the hell you talkin' 'bout, Pietro?"

"You know," Pietro rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, "The twelve days of Christmas?"

That was... unbelievably corny.

"You don' have tah do that." Rogue sighed.

"Yes I do." He answered quickly. And he did have to, if he planned on winning the bet.

"No, yah _don't._"

"Who says you know what I don't have to do?"

"Because Ah'm surprisin'ly stubborn and don't want anybody to go through so much trouble for me because of mah small self worth?"

Pietro paused for half of a second and looked at Rogue in a new light.

"That was surprisingly self aware of you, Rogue. I think I might be a little proud of you."

"An' Ah think Ah don't really care."

Pietro shook his head. She was always so sarcastic. His former girls were always so bubbly and fun. Albeit a little... dull. But only in terms of intelligence.

"So, since you don't care, why don't you... take the gift. Along-with-the-eleven-other-heart-warming-gifts-I-have-planned-for-your-enjoyment."

"Okay, Ah do care. An' Ah care 'bout it by bein' uncomfortable with you puttin' yourself up like that."

"Oh, don't be so noble. It doesn't suit people like us."

"Us?" Rogue stopped walking, and Pietro decided not to mention that she might miss her ride if she didn't hurry to the parking lot. Not when she raised her eyebrow with a look of _danger._

"Yes?"

"There ain't no people like _us_. _We _are not grouped into a category. We are, in fact, the complete _opposite _of each other."

"Oh really? Do tell."

"Whadda ya mean? Just look at us!"

"I am! And I see two people who are children of psycho powerful mutants, who both were, at some point in their lives, leaders of the Brotherhood, a place where _both _of us have lived before. We both have siblings we would give anything to keep happy." He started listing their similarities on his fingers, his brain working a mile a minute to find any similarity between the two, "We're both pale, although I work it a _little _better than you--"

"Okay, just stop." Rogue held a hand to her head. "Ah shoulda known better than tah give you the opportunity for a challenge."

Pietro's chest puffed proudly as if she meant it as a compliment.

"I'll see you later, Pietro." Rogue sighed, because she knew that Pietro had a short enough attention span that eventually he _would _end up near the mansion, and would end up bothering them.

She walked away at a brisk enough pace, just short of running, that Pietro considered speeding up to her to prove that she couldn't outrun him. However, he also thought of the possible romantic gesture that could be made, complete with Gothic black rose and everything.

He cackled.

* * *

"Stripes."

"Yes, Logan?" Rogue asks, wondering when the day would just _end _already.

"We've got a new guest in the house."

"Ah don' really care." Rogue re-shouldered her bag and cursed the stairs for their existence.

"If you want your punishment to get any lighter, then you will."

Rogue turned slowly on her heel, already three flights up the stairs, and glared. The nerve of him.

"Whadda you want?"

"Meet your new roommate." Logan smiled. Or, smiled as much as someone with as much testosterone and angst as him could.

"Ah already have one roommate." Rogue almost growled. One was more than enough.

"And now you have two. We already moved the bed in."

"You're kiddin' me."

The girl was... plain looking. Brown hair, dark tan, black clothing. Rogue had seen worse at the shopping mall, where chains would hang off every limb imaginable in the form of clothing and piercings. If Rogue didn't worry about being able to fight every moment of the day, being both an X-Man and the adopted daughter of an _assassin, _she probably would have chains everywhere, too.

The only thing strange about the girl was the expression she had on. As if she were a soldier going into battle.

Rogue wasn't _that _scary, was she?

"The female smells too strongly of makeup." The girl said, effectively pissing Rogue off.

"That ain't that crazy chick who attached a bomb to everyone's head, right? Don't even try denyin' it. Ah got you in mah head."

Logan raised an eyebrow.

"I am not a 'crazy chick'. My name is X-23." X-23 growled.

"You may not talk lahke him, but you sure look like him." Rogue crossed her arms and leaned on the railing of the stairs, "Yoah scowl looks exactly like his when he's contemplating murder."

X-23's scowl deepened.

"That is because I was created to be identical to him. Only better."

"How'd that work out for you?"

"You smell of the failure the other twenty two before me smelled of. Are your remains also going to be dissected and then incinerated."

"Funny. They teach you that in clone school?"

"They also taught me fifty seven ways to kill you and make it look accidental."

"Ah have crazy people in mah head. You think Ah don't either?

Logan rolled his eyes.

He hated teenagers.

"I think it's safe to say everybody in this room knows how to kill people." Logan said in an attempt to pacify the two temperamental girls. Why he always picked the angry ones to think of as a daughter...

Kurt, with a small look of fear, teleported quickly to his room. And Rogue snorted.

"Ya really want the two of us in the same room together, Logan?"

"Stripes, I think you're just about the only girl in this mansion who _can _handle her." And she's just about the only one other than him who can sense when that Cajun was near.

"Then stick her with the boys. Ah'm sure Bobby'd be more than happy to live in constant fear o' bein' slashed up." She chuckled at the thought, and X-23 was a little angry that the striped haired stranger was not afraid of her.

"There's no negotiatin' about this, Stripes. You got a new roommate."

Fuck you, Mr. Wolverine.

* * *

"What is that vile atrocity on your bed?"

"Who taught you how tah speak? Merriam-Webster? But you don't lahke somethin', you don't _say nothing_. Cause Ah don't care 'bout yo' opinions."

"I read a psychological profile that is suitable towards my impression of you. It is an annoying one."

"Not everybody loves a know-it-all robot. Nobody but dumbfucks and other know-it-all robots." She looked towards her bed and found out that what the clone was talking about wasn't just her covers; a frilly gift bag was at the foot of her bed, green and black and stuffed with tissue paper and ribbons with little skulls on them. It was like something out of a Hot Topic store.

"The hell kinda--_Pietro._ Of course." She approached the gift angrily and picked out the little card with a skull panda on the front, and saw that inside there was only one line.

_On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me_

Her true love? She wished her scoff was loud enough that he could hear it all the way from the Brotherhood house.

She reached inside, though, and picked out a little stuffed something. It was a plushie bird; a _partridge, _as if Pietro couldn't get any cornier.

'_Open me' _a little sign around it's neck said, and she dutifully opened it's little beaks.

It was a ring.

A silver ring, with a coffin on top that opened and closed. She wished she lived in the days where everyone wore these, poisoning each other's food with just the flick of a finger, and when it was normal to be covered from head to toe in clothing. She hated being born in the wrong century.

The ring was nice.

"That is a present. And yet there is no occasion." X-23 commented.

"Twelve days of Christmas stuff."

"That is incorrect."

"Excuse me?"

"I have been reading. The twelve days of Christmas begins on the twenty fifth. Then it continues on until the seventh of next month."

"Oh." And she thought that she was the bearer of odd funfacts, being the bearer of several minds plaguing her psyche. "Ah'm sure he'd like _you, _then, seein' as he's a dumbfuck."

* * *

**DAY TWO**

"I see from that unnatural growth underneath your glove that you enjoyed my present."

"You wanna see up close?"

"Death threats are unbecoming. Wanna get some food?"

"Ah'm grounded 'till the end of the week."

"Really? I thought ol' Wolvie'd have you in the mansion till the end of the year."

"Why'd you even ask, then? No, don't answer that. Ah'd kill you, and then get in even more trouble. Ah paid mah dues, and will continue to pay them until Ah move out or die."

"Shit, Rogue, what did you do?"

"Ah have another roommate."

"You dumped Kitty?"

"Naw. Ah have her _and_ another one. Has Logan's temper, too. Ah had tah sleep with a knife underneath mah pillow an' had tah channel Magneto _and _Wolverine so Ah could sense her if she was comin' fo' me. Their nightmares are the _worst._"

"So you're housing the devil now?"

"Pretty much. Shit, Ah kinda feel lahke ditchin' mah four o'clock curfew now. Logan's startin' tah piss me off."

"Well, we could always-"

"But then Ah'd have tah deal with him when Ah got back. And the week woulda been moved right back tah _indefinitely. _Did Ah tell you that mah roommate talks like a friggin' robot? Oh. An' the twelve days of Christmas starts on Christmas day, apparently. Don't lead up to it."

"I know that."

"Right."

"No, really. I was just too impatient for it."

That was so believable.

"So am Ah gon' wait till Ah get home to get the present, or am Ah gon' get it here?"

"Here, of course, now that you've gotten over that fake modesty of yours."

"Nah, Ah just accepted that you'll be expectin' me owin' you a favor."

"Twelve, actually." Pietro cackled and handed her her gift that he'd been hiding oh-so-subtly behind her back.

"This a ring too?" She looked inside the bag.

A plushie turtle, and a plushie dove.

"Wow, this is real cute." She said sarcastically, "Ya know a turtle dove just one bird, right?"

"Of course. Where's the fun in that?"

"Hm." She opened the beak of the dove, and there was another ring. This time with a small emerald gem in the center.

"The turtle is just a turtle. Made him myself."

"You make stuffed animals?"

"Rogue, Rogue, Rogue."

"What?"

"I'm an expert at _everything_."

* * *

**DAY THREE**

"If that X-bitch ever is integrated enough into society that they let her enroll in our school; if Ah'm not graduated already Ah'll kill myself. Or her. Ah haven't decided yet."

"She's, like, not that bad, Rogue. I mean, Logan trusts her."

"Stop tryin' tah reassure yourself that she ain't gon' kill you in your sleep. Ah don' care about whether she's a walkin' lethal weapon or what. She pisses me off with that personality of hers."

"She _has _a personality?"

"Stop tryin' tah be cute, Bobby."

"Yes, ma'am."

"So, _Rogue, _I've, like, noticed some gift wrapping that you're trying to cover up."

"You lookin' through mah trash, Pryde!?"

"Just because I'm not Christian doesn't mean I don't expect a gift, Rogue! It's, like, common courtesy."

"That ain't an excuse. You jus' greedy, and now you're resortin' to lookin' through mah trash cause you can't find whatever Ah'm givin' you."

"Heh. So. Who's giving _you_ gifts, Rogue?"

"Nobody."

"Nobody my butt."

"Nobody, like, invited you into the conversation, Bobby."

"Hey, I'm curious just like you. I just didn't rifle through someone's trash to find out."

"Curiosity killed the cat. An' then proceeded tah smash the ice cube intah little unrecognizable bits."

"You're kin' of scary sometimes, Rogue. No offense intended."

"Nobody asked you, Sam. So keep drivin' and Ah won't take no offense."

"Sure thing."

"Good boy, sug'."

"Sugar? How come you don't call me sugar?"

"Stop, like, pouting, Bobby. It's weird."

"Ah don' call you sugar cause Ah'm racist and don't lahke city folk."

"Wait... was that a joke?"

"Yoah alright, sug'. Just not too bright."

Bobby felt all warm and tingly inside.

* * *

"You've gotta be kiddin' me." Rogue rolls her eyes as she walks from her class to the car waiting for her.

Pietro is beside her, insisting on carrying her books for her.

"It's common courtesy, Roguey. And it's rude to refuse."

"Ah guess Ah'm just a rude person, then." Rogue shrugs, having a death grip on her books. She wasn't some weak... weak thing that couldn't carry her own things.

"Hey, Rogue!" Bobby runs to her side.

Rogue resists the urge to sigh. But no, she _cared _about these people. Regardless if they were two of the most obnoxious boys she knew. And she was trying to be nicer, right? Like... Jean?

Grimace.

"Want me to carry your books for you?"

She rolled her eyes and quickened her pace.

A gust of wind and a green and black bag was nestled in between her chest and her books.

She decided to block out the fact that in order to deliver her gift, Pietro had to go near her cleavage. At least until he was in punching distance.

"Three French hens." She snorts, and looks inside the bag.

Some French title of what looked to cheery and innocent _not _to be a dark comedy, a stuffed hen, and perfume. French perfume.

Inside the stuffed hen's mouth was a silver ring with a cross.

Pietro was reaching deep into daddy's wallet this year.

She was a little afraid of what big favor he was expecting out of this.

* * *

**DAY FOUR**

"Guess what?"

"What."

"Today the break starts!"

"Genius, albino. Ah had no clue. Really."

"As in today. _Freedom. _And tomorrow you're no longer a prisoner! Well, as long as you're an X-Dweeb, I suppose you're a prisoner. But-that's-irrelevant. We can get food!"

"Uh-huh."

"You're impatient, aren't you?"

"Ah don' know what you talkin' 'bout."

"You want your gift. I bet, underneath those pretty little biker gloves of yours, sweetheart, you're wearing all my rings."

She spun him into the locker, her pretty little biker gloves fisting his collar.

"I knew you still had that aggressive streak, Roguey. I've never been sadder to be proven right."

"Nevah call me sweetheart. Or Roguey."

"Stop wrinkling my shirt and I'll call you Jesus."

"Don't call me that neither."

"Got it. Want your gift now?"

He basked in the embarrassed silence. Yes, he was _totally _owning Gambit. And that stupid ice cube of a sophomore. Though if he ever joined the Brotherhood, they would have fun making popsicle.

She let go of his shirt, and folded her arms, trying not to look at him too eagerly.

He handed her a bag and she opened it eagerly.

"What's this?" She asked, holding up a card.

She opened it while he stayed silent, smirking.

"Four coupons. For an' all-you-can eat buffet?"

"It just opened a couple miles down from the Brotherhood house. Freddy says that it's the best Southern place he ever got kicked out of for eating too much."

"So you see a Southern place and automatically think Ah'd like it best? Racist."

"What? Do you know how much it costs to eat there? It's real high-class. Another reason why Freddy got kicked out."

Rogue shook her head, and considered being nice to him.

"Sorry. Ah'm just angry."

"Roommate?"

"Ah wanna kill her real bad. But Logan won't let me."

"Damn that Wolverine." Deep down, Rogue was a girl. It surprised him a little bit, but she wanted everything every other girl did. She wanted to be flattered and pampered.

She just wasn't flattered or pampered for awhile. And she was bitter about it.

And so Pietro would flatter and pamper the girl until she was a giggling mess that was head over heels for him.

* * *

Today, the window was open and ready for him.

"'Ey, _chere. _You finally admittin' how much y' love dis Cajun?"

"What? No!"

"_Petit_? What'choo doin', waitin' up fo' Remy? _Desole, _y' ain't de one dat makes dis heart go boom boom, _hein_?"

"God, like, ew. You may be like, aesthetically dreamy and all, but I don't go for, like, slick-tongued creeps."

"Yeah, yeah. Y' prefer deh ones dat barely talk, _oui_? Tall, buff, 'nd Russian."

"Why are you here, anyway? I expected you a few days ago! How come your calling card doesn't have, like, a number or something!?"

"_Desole, _hon. Y' friend Wolvie don' make it easy. Had t' pay d'big furry _chat _t' rob a liquor store. Figured dey get good an' drunk while dey try'n kill each other."

"Okay, Mr. Logan's like, distracted! Whatever. Like, we don't have time for this! Major status update. Like, completely crucial."

"Lay yo' issues on Remy, _petit_."

"Three months ago. Picture it."

"Picture what?" Remy didn't like thinking of the past.

"The mansion is in, like, complete and total chaos. A ticked off female, thinking, 'My feminine products have been frozen for, like, the last time! I'm getting revenge!'"

"De hell you on, _petit_?"

"And so revenge is wrought! Not cold but _sizzling hot_**. **An autographed baseball by, like, Mike Tyson or whatever,"

"Das boxin', hon."

"Replaced with an identical yet completely thrashed one. The original was found a week later in the girls bathroom with the thawed out feminine products. The baseball returned to it's original owner two weeks after that. Bedsheets replaced with lint. Lint..._ everywhere_. This icky slime like, covering every inch of the ceiling and dripping. A room completely_ ruined._**"**

"Dis important because...?

"The revenged wants revenge. The original prankster knows it's one of the girls, so each week narrows down the candidates by individually pranking each and every one of us. And then apparently gets his match, because like, I get out totally unscathed and the general pranks start up again. It's complete mayhem. Pranks are going off, like, every day. Pranks that could be called genius. That seem, like, practically impossible to both think up and carry out. Some are recruited into the battle. You can tell by the secretive glances everyone gave each other. All of them guys. No girls recruited. Nada."

"Y' done monologuing?" Remy narrowed his eyes. He knew where this was going.

"The prank war, just about the most epic, direct quote from Bobby, prank war in this mansion, much less, like, the entire world. Half the guys in the mansion, with Bobby as the ringleader, versus Rogue and Jamie. I didn't even, like, find out until Jamie told me yesterday. And after I spent a half hour interrogating him about why he was so gaga about Rogue. She's a total prank genius, and after the prank war her and Bobby are like, bosom buddies or something. Secret bosom buddies that I haven't noticed until like, I paid good attention. Real good attention."

"What you t'ink m' chances are, den?"

"Truthfully?"

"Y' her roomate, _petit chat. _Remy close t' her when it came t' our sordid pasts, but he ain't a mind reader." An empath came a close second, but it always helped to have the perspective of the best friend. It's what all the hopeless men in his high school used to do, and he might as well try it.

"Well, you have a lot of rivals. I mean, like, _a lot. _You may have been the first on the 'let's all go after Rogue like she's like, a brand new shiny motorcycle' bandwagon or something, but it's totally like a trend now."

"Hate trends."

"Well, if anyone deserves a little attention, it's her, y'know?"

"'S a little hard for Remy t' be happy for her 'bout dat. So are you gonna tell me your opinion or are y' just gonna rattle off what Remy already know?"

"I'm, like, getting there. And don't even make me _mention _all the mutants in the mansion that suddenly have the hots for her. Well, Jamie was _always _like, fumbly around her. But I think that's hero worship more than anything. Bobby's a total idiot only in the past week or so, trying to impress her or something. Makes me wish Jubilee would get permission to come back to the mansion just to, like, slap him in the face. Ray just goes for tough chicks, and they're pretty good friends... And she used to like Scott, right?" Remy was surprised at this, "Cyclops, remember?"

"I know who de man is. Didn't know dat _he _was competition, too."

"Like, _totally_. I mean he was like, her first love. Completely head over heels for him. I didn't even know until I saw her all puppy dog eyes over him, y'know? She doesn't tell me _anything_. I think she stopped like, right when that whole Apocalypse stuff started happening."

Remy groaned. He had been on a lot of dates and knew how to decipher the dialect of ditz. Most of them were nothing to worry about. But the ones with _connections _with her. Not just living with her, but the 'good friends', he had to watch out for.

"And then there's _Pietro. _And at first I was like, 'yeah _right, _I'm like, _so sure_' but he like, knows stuff, y'know? Like, there are inside jokes that are super confusing, and his brain works like, a thousand million miles a minute."

"M' chances, _petit_?"

"Like, statistically speaking, you've got like," Kitty tilted her head, "Well, the factors are pretty much divided between you, Pietro, and Ray. That means twenty five percent each to start with. Ray's got, like the least chance with her, being a new recruit, so seen as childish, immature, and just like, _no thank you_, so his odds are down to ten percent and you guys each get five more. And, well, you're pretty much even, I bet."

"What 'bout when Rogue 'n' I had dat heart t' heart down at deh bayou? Still keeps m' card right underneath 'r pillow dere."

"Dude, you're like, a total snoop!" Kitty exclaimed, peeking under the pillow just to make sure, "That's like, totally evened out by what a complete creep that knowledge you have makes you."

"A t'ief always knows deh battle field 'fore he even starts playin' it."

"And you're not gonna be, like, playing Rogue, right?"

"Course not. T'ief's honor."

"That doesn't, like, say much."

"A t'ieves word is jus' 'bout deh only t'ing 'bout a t'ief y' can trust."

"Whatever. Like, guess what I found out." She didn't wait for his response, "Jamie told me who heard from Rahne who heard from Sam who heard from Bobby who was an _eye witness _that Pietro has been giving her gifts every day. Serious gifts. Like, jewelry."

His eyes were narrowed and ready for murder. Or some serious seduction.

"Looks like I got t' get serious, then."

"God, please don't tell me you're gonna like, stalk her even more now, are you? Don't listen to Twilight. Stalking isn't attractive. Unless you're a vampire."

"_Non_. If anyt'in', I gotta back up a bit. Change tactics a bit. Got a little too close for her tastes. F'got she wasn't like t'ose ot'er chicks that like bein' serenaded at deh balcony."

"Yeah, not to give you, like, preferential treatment or anything. But, like, if she ends up with Bobby I'm gonna like, puke. And Pietro's icky, and, well, I dunno what's so bad about Ray, but I don't know what's good about him either so that automatically rules him out, and you two are too cute for each other."

"Y' tend t' ramble when y' nervous, _petite_."

"Right. Like, do not serenade her. At all. She said that Romeo was, like, some totally icksome emo boy that needed like, a Hawthorne Heights CD and, like, a clue."

"So Remy won't swoon her with lengthy prose 'bout how the stripe in her hair is like a sliver of de moon in de night sky, 'n' how she, like deh moon, shines wit' an ethereal beauty not found in a world of fadin' stars."

"Wow, that was like, professional."

"Yeah. If thievin' don't work out for you, I'm sure you can make it as a starvin' poet. Ya already got the goatee." Rogue rolled her eyes, walking into the room.

"Rogue! I thought you were, like, watching a movie with Ray." Kitty giggled nervously.

"Ah am. But the popcorn was buttered." She grimaced at her shining glove and peeled it off, throwing it in the garbage, "Good thing this pair Ah bought came in bulk."

She gave Remy a glance, who stayed quiet and observed her, just shuffling his cards.

"Whadda _you _want?" She asked defensively.

"T'ought I was makin' it habit 'nough for you to expect me." He smirked, slow and easy, not moving from where he was from the window. His feet were still balanced on the windowsill, not stepping a foot into her room like he usually would.

"Never said Ah'd _welcome_ you, though."

"We'll see 'bout dat." Remy tipped his head and Rogue rolled her eyes, walking out of the room with a fresh glove on.

Remy fished in his trenchcoat and took out both card and pen.

"What do you, like, _not _have in that coat?"

Remy smirked.

"Dis is Remy's business card." He scribbled on the back a few numbers, "De typed is m' work line, in case y' ever need a job dat needs doin'." Kitty rolled her eyes. As _if._ "And now y' have m' personal line as well. Don' worry. Rogue already has bot' programmed into her phone."

"Thanks for, like, letting me know beforehand so I could have reached you in an emergency. Jerk."

"Y' welcome, _petit. _Au voir."

Damn it. He was going to kill all the men who thought they had a chance with Rogue.

* * *

**DAY FIVE**

Dinnertime.

"Hey, Rogue! Sit here, will ya?" Bobby waved his hands like crazy, completely embarrassing himself. Rogue took pity on him.

"What you want, then?"

"Do I have to need something to want to be near you, Rogue?"

"What?" A suspicious glance.

"Or have a conversation with you, Rogue?"

"Right. Sorry." She shrugged, grabbing the rice and plopping some down on her plate. All she needed now was a slab of butter on her rice and she'd be set. Butter, butter, where the hell are you hiding?

"So, what do you think?"

"Sorry?"

"Oh. Nevermind." The students around them giggled.

"Did Ah miss something?"

"Nothing important." Ray said, sitting beside Rogue and dishing himself some rice, too.

Bobby glowered at him.

"Whatevah." She looked around the table, "Hey, pass the chicken."

"Sure thing, Rogue." Ray smiled, cheesily in Rogue's opinion, and presented the plate to her.

"Thanks." Weirdo.

"So," Bobby said, "How 'bout them Red Sox, eh?"

"What about 'em? It ain't baseball season."

"Oh, right. Hah. How 'bout that, eh?"

"Did y'all inhale somethin'? Cause Ah'm pretty sure Xavier has a strict 'no-drug' policy. If ya wanna do shit like that, go to the Brotherhood or somethin'. Ah'm serious. That's why everyone keeps a safe distance from Todd. You _breathe _near him and yo' brain cells are deteriorating faster than if you were sniffin' rubber cement."

"Wow. Rogue, are you a stoner?" Bobby asked in amazement.

"Don't be a tard, Bobby. Rogue doesn't do drugs." Ray snarled.

"Thank ya for defendin' my honor. Ah guess."

"I didn't mean it in a bad way, Rogue!" Bobby defended.

"How is accusing someone of doing drugs _good_?" Ray rebutted.

"Stop twisting my words around!"

"What the hell am I doing that you're not doing to yourself?"

"Yeah. You know what? Ah'm just gonna let you two have yo' hissy fit with each othah." She said, grabbing her plate and leaving, ignoring their cries for her to stop.

"Great, now look what you've done!"

"What _I've _done? You're the hissy one. You are the hisser!"

"Yeah right, Bobby. Compared to you I am six feet of testosterone. _Pure testosterone_."

The door slammed shut.

She went up to her room, and saw a gift bag on her bed.

True to the poem, there were five golden rings. All with different, swirling patterns on the sides of all of them. Like she was in the Lord of the Rings or something.

She let out a little smile.

* * *

**DAY SIX**

"We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New-"

"I will shove those bells you are ringing down your throat and then impale both the bell and your neck to ensure that none are used again!"

Amen to that.

"I didn't know that death threats came in anything other than a Southern accent!"

"Don' push meh, Roberto. Ah'm in a mood tah carry out those threats."

"Can we not have death threats please?" Jean asked sweetly, "At least not in a public restaurant."

"And zees is most of our last meals, too. We should only have good memories."

"Sug', givin' death threats are the best memories Ah have."

"You are a scary sister to have."

"Shut up and eat your food."

"Yes, _mein schwester._"

"Damn straight."

"Watch yer language, Stripes."

"Fine." No present for you.

She, however was wearing her present.

One of six pairs of beautiful opera length gloves.

* * *

**DAY SEVEN**

"Hey, Rogue!"

Rogue turned around and saw that it was _Scott _running towards her, waving his hand excitedly at her. Before, she would have been pissing her pants with joy. Now, most likely due to overexposure, she could care less about guys.

The seven necklaces she found on her bed were nice, though.

"Yeah, Scott?" She asked.

"Guess who's coming to the mansion for Christmas. And New Years." Scott demanded.

"Ah dunno. The tooth fairy?"

"Angel!"

"What? You kiddin'."

"Nope!"

"Why's he comin' _here _for Christmas? Thought he'd be on some yacht in the Caribbean with hot supermodels fawnin' all over him. That's how rich young bachelors spend their tahme, right?"

"The professor didn't give me a reason. You're free to ask him when we pick up him up from the airport. Right now." Rogue closed her book and reluctantly followed after Scott into the garage.

"And why am I picked especially for this life-threatening mission?"

"So that when Angel arrives, he can spot our friendly faces right off the bat."

"Good thing our friendly faces are pretty hard tah miss." Rogue joked, as Warren started walking towards the two.

"No, I'm sure we blend right in." The sarcasm is refreshing. He gets cooler when he's farther away from Miss Perfect.

"May Ah take yo' bag, Mr. Worthington?" Rogue asked playfully, bowing down and holding her hand out.

"I think I can handle it, Rogue." Warren chuckled.

"Nice to see you again, Angel." Scott said, patting him on the back.

"This week, it's just Warren. Not Angel, not Mr. Worthington, just... Warren. Whoever that is." Bring on the angst mobile. A rich man with insecurities. Rogue rolled her eyes. He was like the blond-haired Batman.

Angel stretched, his wings twitching involuntarily.

"Why don't you save the stretching till we're back home? So you don't look like you have an octopus in your back."

"Right. Sorry."

* * *

**DAY EIGHT**

"Gambit speakin'." He said casually, a phone in his ear as he cooked up the second best gumbo a cajun could make. The first, of course, belonging to his _Tante _Mattie herself.

"Remy?"

"_Oui ?_" Ah, the little cat.

"Like, I crunched the numbers." Great. "I mapped out the timeline as I saw it, starting from when Pietro came in as a rival, and it is _not _looking in your favor."

"What's m' standin' in y' little pie chart den, _petit_?"

"Well, her like, lone wolf thing is still in the league. By a _long shot. _Like, 68% of your hundred."

"And the rest of it?"

"Well, you're about 2.4% away from the lead."

"Dat ain't so bad." Dammit. Unacceptable. "Who in firs'?"

"Well, it is bad if you're not okay with _third place._"

"_Merde. _Who de two _garcon _beatin' me t' her heart, and how far is de one behind me?" Dammit dammit dammit.

"Pietro has nine percent in first place. Now that she's not grounded anymore, they're going out every day together. Pietro's actually riding backseat on Rogue's bike, so he's like, not only risking his life with Rogue's driving but like, in the _backseat_, so you know he's serious _and _he trusts her_. _Then, yesterday I heard that _Angel_ is staying at the mansion."

"_Angel_." Remy rolled the name around in his tongue. And didn't like it, "And who dat be?"

"Warren Worthington. The _third._"

"Rich boy, _hein_? Bet he can't compare t' deh LeBeau fortune."

"I dunno. I mean, his dad's the head of this big-shot company."

"De self-titled one, _oui, oui. _Make it my business t' know who all deh big-shots are." And the layout of all their security systems.

"So you know he's rich, cultured, _totally dreamy, _and like, the total package." Remy glowered, "Sorry. He has 7.6%. You, however, both stalked her and kidnapped her, so you only have 6.6%. And you're lucky you have that. Then there are Ray's stolen movie nights, so that's 4.9%. Bobby and her's pranks, which're 3.99%, and then .001% for unknown variables."

"T'anks for de update, _petit. _Remy owe y' one."

"Don't worry. I'm keeping track."

Remy had to pull out the big guns, now.

* * *

Rogue had just put on the delicate looking bracelet of eight that she had gotten. All in varying styles and _very _expensive looking.

And then there was a knock on her door.

No, her window.

"Ya knockin' this time?" She asks, making no move to open it for the lousy Cajun.

He rolls his eyes and opens the locked window on his own.

"Y' makin' me bein' nice difficult, _chere_."

"It's mah nature."

"'Course_._ Got y' a Christmas present."

He tossed her a very large package.

"Ah didn't get _you_ nothin'."

"Wasn' expectin' nothin', _ma cherie_."

"Really?"

"_Oui. _'Cept, maybe a date."

"Ya know that ain't gon' happen."

"Why, y' busy Christmas day?"

"Yes."

"Doin' what? Playin' nice wit' yo' housemates? Y' can do better den dat."

"An' if Ah do, it sure as hell won't be with you."

"What if Remy guarantee one o' de best meals y' ever had?"

"At yo' house?"

"Naw. Otherwise Remy'd be tempted not t' bring y' home 'fore curfew."

"Pervert."

"C'mon, _chere, _it be nice. Heard he de best paid chef in de country."

"_Paid _chef?"

"_Mon tante _Mattie beat him out good. She sell her food, and de whole world be bankrupt."

"You tryin' tah show me yoah sweet side? The Swamp Rat doesn't care much foah the girls that swoon after him, but he loves his _tante _Mattie more than a momma's boy ever could."

"Y' getting a little crueler, _chere_."

"Comes with the company."

She gestures towards the door, where a girl then walks in with an apple impaled by a claw coming out of her fist. The two exchange loathing glances before they both look at Remy with matching looks of animosity.

"She Wolverine spawn, ain't she."

"Somethin' real close tah that. Mah roommate."

"What happen t' Kitty?" He liked Kitty. Kitty supported his wooing of Rogue.

"Three beds." Rogue pointed out, "Two different kinds of hell."

"Definitely takin' you out Christmas, den. Wit'out de lovin' company of yoah new edition to de mansion."

"Who is this man?"

"It's a pleasure." Remy bowed and smiled charmingly.

"He smells of the bars I used to go to, to torture low-lives for information."

"Nice tah know yo' reminiscin' 'gain. Ah'll see ya later, Cajun?" She herds Remy to the window.

"Why does he not use the door?"

"Cause he lahkes actin' sneaky 'bout it. Bye now!"

"Christmas, _chere. _Dis Cajun be like an elephant. He don' forget _nothin'._" He was halfway out the windowsill, and Rogue was tempted to shove him the rest of the way.

"Ah don' care 'bout yo' big head. Now go." The hand that was prepared to shove him out the window was seized, and then she was pressed up against the stupid Cajun.

"You gon' gimme a goodbye kiss?"

She punched him in the face, and he was gone a second later.

"You should have killed him. I do not like that man."

"You an' me both."

* * *

**DAY NINE**

A music box.

A _music _box.

With ladies dancing, of course, in a circle to Tchaikovsky.

It did have a certain charm, though. Pietro always did have good taste. She didn't know if he was metro or just gay.

"Hey, Rogue! I got the _worst _movie on FearNet. It's Jack Frost--as a snowman--as a _serial killer_."

"Ah'm in."

* * *

**DAY TEN**

Ten scarves. At least they weren't men in tights leaping all over her room.

She'd welcome X-23's homicidal tendencies, then.

"Hey, Rogue. Hank made some hot chocolate. Would you like some?"

"Shoah, Angel."

* * *

**DAY ELEVEN**

Eleven different versions of Peter and the Wolf.

Weird.

* * *

**DAY TWELVE**

CHRISTMAS DAY

"The other residents require our presence in the room with the large tree."

"It's... nine in the mornin'. Go."

"Fine. I will tell the others that you are too weak to make an appearance."

"You suck."

Rogue rolled out of the bed and considered killing herself.

There was a gift at the foot of her bed.

She opened it excitedly and saw that it was a sweater. A dark blue boatneck sweater, incredibly soft and with lace patterns around the edge.

_'This better make up for twelve gifts. Lance is never going to let me forget that he saw me knitting. This is bamboo silk, so don't ruin it with your crappy washing machines. Hand wash only!'_

Well, heck. He really _was _an expert in everything.

TBC

**Author's Note:** This chapter... is the longest chapter... I've ever written. If there are big huge errors, I apologize. I can only read it through so many times.

Sorry if the swearing is a little out of control. I tried to delete as many cuss words I could see, but I'm sure more than half escaped. I've been watching the first season of True Blood, and they've all been affecting the way I talk. Especially Tara. It's a little sad, and I blame the white side of my family mostly.

Is Rogue going to lunch with Remy? What did he give her for Christmas? Will Rogue and X-23 ever become friends? Who's _really _winning?


	9. Drive, Cajun, Drive

Remy got her a coat.

Judging from how he wears a trench coat like a cartoon character with only one outfit, she really shouldn't have been surprised.

But it was a nice, dark forest green.

She lifted it out of the box and _did not smile._

"Your coat has shed something." X-23 pointed out, and Rogue glared at the girl who was opening her own present from Professor Xavier.

The coat shed a scarf. Gold and shimmering and see-through. She was not smiling.

"I received paper." X-23 was definitely not smiling.

"Read the paper." Professor Xavier suggested with a knowing smile.

"I received forged papers." X-23 elaborated.

"They are as legal as the ones that Logan has. However, the matter of your first name was left blank."

"Wait..." Rogue dragged out, her mind still working a little slow. What she was thinking was happening, couldn't actually be happening.

"The Wolverine is my father now."

"If you wish it."

"Nobody's gonna force you, kid." Logan coughed, avoiding eye contact.

"Laura." X-23 also avoided eye contact, "My name will be Laura."

Rogue rolled her eyes. She hated sappy moments, and this moment was so sticky and... heartfelt. This was real life, not Disney.

"Hot cocoa?" Angel offered. His smile was heartfelt and sappy, just like everyone else in the room.

She accepted the drink with a grimace disguised as a smile.

_

* * *

"Hey, Roguey, did you get my presents?"_

_"I told you not to call me that."_

_"Yeah, yeah. So did you get it?"_

_"Yeah, sug'. They're great. Listen, Ah'll talk to you later, okay? Gotta go. Bye."_

Pietro hung up the phone, a little confused. Was he one-upped?

No, he couldn't have been. He was Pietro Maximoff, son of Magneto, wanted terrorist and Master of Magnetism. His brain could develop elaborate plans faster than an average mind could think one measly thought.

No one could show him up.

Right?

* * *

The doorbell rang.

She got off the phone and took off at a run.

Yes, Angel was kind and funny and their conversations were playful and interesting. But something about the way the two of them acted with each other seemed a little... familiar. Only, whatever the two of them reminded her of brought a little bile to the back of her throat when she thought too hard on it.

It was strange, to say the least.

Maybe they were too sappy? Sappy always brought bile up. All of the lunatics in the time-share in her head weren't fuzzy hearted.

"Stripes."

Speak of a lunatic, and he shall come running.

"Yeah, Logan?"

"I smell Gumbo."

He was polishing his claws, while Xavier and Hank were playing chess. However, the two had paused their game to look at Rogue quizzically.

"Yeah. You do." She crossed her arms to perfect her rebellious image.

"Thought I told you-"

"That he was off-limits?" She cut off the Wolverine in the middle of his rant and she isn't dead. Thank God for small miracles, "I'm old enough to make my own choices, Logan. And besides—he ain't done nothin' to hurt me. He's a heck of a better influence then the Brotherhood—and y'all let Alvers _live_ in this house."

"What the hell makes Gumbo a good influence?"

"I said better. He has a steady income an' a good worth ethic. Brotherhood are lazy slobs." And they were, through and through. She lived with them, after all.

"He's a thief."

"Irrelevant."

"Rogue," Xavier intervened, "I understand that you have made plans with young Mr. LeBeau?"

"Yes." Rogue said shortly. She considered making a puppy dog face like the other girls, but her pride quickly trashed that plan, "Ah mean, it's kinda hypocritical that y'all can trust him to help save the world from Apocalypse but not the fact that Ah cin take care of myself 'round him. I mean, what's he gonna do?" She snorted, "Kidnap me again?"

Logan snarled, but Xavier managed a small chuckle at her attempted humor.

"Well, I do not see a reason why she should not be able to go." The Professor said calmly, not even twitching when Logan exploded on him. Rogue took that opportunity to run for it.

"Where are you hurrying, Rogue?" Angel asked as she sped by him.

"The hell outta Dodge!" She yelled in response, already out the door.

"Drive, Swamp Rat." Rogue commanded, grabbing the helmet from his hands and practically jumping on the awaiting bike.

"In a hurry, chere?" He asked as he slid into the space in front of her.

"Like you wouldn't believe." She mutters as he rips down the driveway.

"How you like de present?" He asks, and has to repeat himself twice before Rogue can hear him properly over the engine.

It takes her half a minute to answer, and even then she says it's just, 'Fine.' And it is fine. And soft. And it makes her look mysterious.

They stop at a light and he takes the time to turn and look at her.

"Keepin' you warm now, chere?"

She turns red with shame. She was wearing the coat and she didn't even remember putting it on. It must have been a moment of weakness on her part.

"It's a coat." She said, not pouting at all, "That's what it's supposed to do, right?"

He started laughing.

"Where we goin', anyway?"

"Fusion restaurant John forced me to a year back."

"Ah'm supposed to trust that guy's taste? Turn around, swamp rat. Ah'm better off singin' carols at the mansion."

"_Non, non, chere_. No worries. Dis place, it gives you a discount de more spicier you get it. Eat de spiciest t'ing all de way, 's' free."

"Free food?"

"If y' can handle it. 'N' _chere_, dey some strong dishes."

"You managed it, Cajun?"

"Remy Cajun, like y' says. He be kicked from de family if he don't."

"That woulda been a laugh. Remy LeBeau, best thief that walked the states, kicked out cause he can't handle some New York spice."

"'Choo better handle it then. Else Remy gon' be shamed."

"You're gonna be ashamed? Of me?"

"Well, if y' can't handle some cheap New York spice, how you ever gon' handle Remy's homemade gumbo?"

"Ah already had ya homemade crap." Delicious, delicious crap.

"Not wit' Remy's N'Awlin spices."

"Ya sayin' Ah can't handle it?"

"Remy sayin' he lookin' out f'yo' well-bein'."

"Ya sayin' you think Ah can't handle it."

"Remy not sayin' nuttin' o' de sort."

"Just drive, Swamp Rat. Ah cin handle anythin' you throw at me."

Remy sped off.

"'M countin' on it, chere."

"S' a nice sweater choo wearin'." Remy said off-handedly as he pulled out her chair. She looked down and saw Pietro's hand-knitted sweater and a little shame burned through her. It seemed wrong, somehow, wearing something of Pietro's and Remy's at the same time. Especially in one of their presence.

But they kept getting her so many clothes. They outweighed the clothes she bought herself.

"It's bamboo." She said, fixing her napkin on her lap, "However the hell they managed that."

"Remy not into fibers. Dat mo' Etienne's expertise."

"Yo' cousin, right?"

"Oui. Dat from my head bein' in y' head?"

"Just a bit." She shrugs, before smirking slyly, "Most of it was housewife skills. Cookin', sewin', cleanin', even Perfect Jean ain't as skilled a woman."

He arches a brow before an easy smile slides onto his face, "Remy a man o' many skills, _cherie_."

So Remy mended clothes, his cousin _weaved, _Pietro knit, and Fred cooked in a frilly pink apron. If she didn't wear a skirt so much, she'd swear _she _was the guy.


	10. City Spice

"Wow. That's... really red."

"_Oui_."

"Did they just stuff it with peppers? Or is there actual filling?"

"Dunno, _chere_. Coulda been eit'er way."

"Okay. So let me repeat the rules for you guys." The chipper waiter had a little sadistic gleam in his eyes, "You have to eat the whole thing. At no point in time may you use a napkin or take a drink or you're disqualified. If you can finish it, your meal is free, along with a t-shirt, your picture on the wall of fame, and you get any one item you want off of the menu free-of-charge. Most of the survivors go for ice cream."

"Alright, then." Rogue nods to herself, trying to channel her inner Blob. All gut and no thinking. Remy sent her a challenging little smirk, tucking his napkin into his neckline like a good little Southerner, and she decided to glare in response.

It was _on_.

_DUE TO THE INTENSITY OF THE SPICE, THE AUTHOR HAS REFRAINED FROM WRITING ABOUT IT_

"Damn..."

"Did they really just...?"

"Oh shit. That was crazy."

"Da_aa_mn. Her face isn't even _red_. I can't even handle their normal spice."

Rogue gave the shellshocked waitress a smirk and ordered an entire pie. Because stupid people thought to put entire pies on menus and she _could_. Remy ordered whatever was the most expensive. It might've been a lobster, but he wasn't paying much attention to anyone or thing that didn't have watery green eyes and skunk-striped hair.

"Will you marry me?"

"You. Are. My. Hero."

The peanut gallery was making Rogue a little claustrophic.

"Y' pretty much de perfect _femme _aren't y', _chere_?" Rogue raised an eyebrow at that. Yes, she was used to Remy's blatant come-on's, but she was wary of that look she could see gleaming behind his oh-noes-my-eyes-are-red-let-me-hide-them-in-an-obvious-fashion shades.

"Whaddya mean?" She asked casually, thanking God that she could finally drink some water. Her tongue was burning to the point where all of her tastebuds were numb. She didn't know _how _red her face was underneath her makeup.

"Y' _belle, _y' strong, and y' can handle spice dat men have passed out eatin'. _Merde, _dis stuff even made m' t'roat tingle a bit." The sucker downed a whole chili pepper and his throat _tingled a bit_. Jerk. "No wonder all dose boys at y' school fawnin' all over you."

"Oh shove off. Ya know Ah ain't got admirers or stupid stuff like that." She folded her arms with what was _not _a pout and chugged some more water.

He raised an eyebrow and stared.

"What? Stop looking at me!"

"Rogue, y' bein' funny or dense?"

"The fuck are you talking about?"

Remy shook his head.

"Y' ain't been noticin' all de boys hangin' around y' lately?" Hell, even the midget clone was following her around a little closer.

"What boys? Ah've only been hanging with Brotherhood and X-Men boys."

"_Pardon _while Remy channels his inner gay man, but dose de boys dat be tryin' to wriggles dey slimy little fingers int' y' heart. Specially dat albino _batard._"

"Now you're being crazy."

"Y' bein' seduced by hormonal teenage mutant boys, alt'ough dey ain't doin' near enough a good a job as me. 'Tleast'choo _know _Remy interested in you."

She twiddled with her napkin, and a hint of a blush could be seen through her makeup.

"Rogue, y' killin' dis Cajun."

"Aren't ya, you know, just playin' around though?" More twiddling. God, she felt like Kitty.

"Y' ain't somebody t' play wit', Rogue. If I jus' wanted some mutant girl to play around wit', I'd go fo' de redhead. Fuck wit' de golden couple 'n' all dat."

She pictured Jean and Remy together and didn't know whether she felt jealous or amused at the idea.

The waitress approached the table, took one look at Remy, and then turned around again. They could wait for their food.

"I know y'aint got alot of love in y' life, _chere, _and dat somet'in' de two of us got on our list of common fucked-up-shit. But dat ain't an excuse for not knowin' that I been tryin' to be wit'choo since de first day we met."

"The first day we met you almost blew mah hand off!"

"Would'n'a done nuttin' but singe you wit' the charge I put in it. An' you de one dat distracted me whiles I was on de job. Wasn't supposed t' get close 'n' personal wit' anyone."

"Ah'm supposed to be flattered that you attacked me?"

"Stop tryin' t'avoid the point, _chere_. Y' ain't some gradeschool girl goin' t'rough puberty. I care about you, so what'choo gon' do about it."

"What _can _I do about it?"

"Say yo' m' woman."

"Ah ain't _nobodies_."

"It goes bot' ways, _chere._ Ain't tryin' t' cage y' or nuttin'." Unless it would keep the albino away.

"I..." am unused to relationships. "Ah need to think. About it."

"Take all de time y' need, Rogue."

Author's Note: Oh dang. However will Pietro recover the points necessary to overpower Remy? Things aren't looking good for him, but he'll make a comeback! The slimy albino bastard always does.

It's short, but between work, school, and writer's block I managed to squeeze this one out.


	11. A Confrontation

For Rogue, "thinking about it" meant holing up in her room for days on end, only coming out for Danger Room training and food. When the other mutants came back from break, they were frightened of her enough that they didn't comment on her reclusiveness to her face.

She was paranoid now, about all of the men she'd been around lately and even some of the girls. Kitty thought she was acting silly. That she should embrace all the boys pursuing her. Rogue argued that she couldn't embrace anybody. They'd pass out.

"Hey Rogue." She heard a voice call through the door, "Somebody's here to see you."

Ah. Jamie. The one boy who was too young to be after her.

"Yeah, shortstack?" Rogue creeps open the door and lets Jamie in.

"You have a visitor. I'm bringing him up right now."

Another Jamie shows up, with the albino Brotherhood leading the way.

"Him?"

"Yeah. Pietro."

Rogue notices a bit of chocolate smudged around his lips.

"Were you bribed in lettin' him in?"

"No," Jamie says guiltily.

"Hey Roguey!" Pietro appears, "You," He points dramatically at her, "Have been avoiding me."

"No I haven't." Rogue lies, "Now go away. Ah've got stuff to do."

A passing (stalking) Bobby sees Pietro outside of Rogue's room and panics. If Pietro's here to make some dramatic plea for Rogue's attention, then all of the boys should have a shot. At the same time. So Pietro wouldn't win. He decides it's time to gather the team and go out with a bang. So he runs and finds Ray in the rec room.

"Jamie," Rogue says disappointedly as a gang of boys enters her room, "You don't realize what you've started."

"He started, like, the beginning of a whole ton of closure for everyone. Jeez, Rogue, you've been dragging this out for _way _too long."

Rogue wonders why Kitty's voice is coming from _behind _her, and turns around just in time to see her phase through the floor leaving Remy standing by the window he probably jumped through.

"Ah thought I locked that?"

Remy raises an eyebrow.

Yeah. Stupid question.

* * *

Logan, being the Wolverine for a reason, thought of the mansion as one big giant pack. It was his job as the Alpha of the house to protect the kids and make sure they were safe. It was his nature. But a few, like Rogue or Kitty, managed to get under his skin more than the others. So even when he was preoccupied by, say, drinking a shit-ton of beer in the garage where Ororo couldn't find him, he always kept a bit of his senses trained on the girls.

So when a mass of testosterone surrounded Rogue, three guys at least, no, _four _and the cloning pipsqueak, he downed the rest of his beer and marched straight up to her room.

It was generally known that when stupid boys came calling for his girls, Logan got a bit touchy. As in his claws got a little touchy with their major arteries. Or they would try to, but the girls were so damn good at pulling those puppy dog eyes at him.

Damn those faces.

He kicked open Rogue's door.

Two major enemies in Rogue's bedroom? It would take a hell of a lot more than a fucking _puppy dog face _to keep Logan from having Gumbo tonight.

"You need me to slice and dice the bastards for you, Stripes?"

"What! That's favoritism, Logan! We're your students, too!" Bobby exclaimed.

"_Mr. _Logan. Brat. A private danger room session for you kids. As for _you _two. Rogue, say the word and I'm impaling them with sticks and propping them outside your window like scarecrows."

"Now why would y' go an' do a t'ing like dat, _Monsieur _Wolverine?"

"So it'll scare off the other ones." Logan growled, "Rogue?"

Rogue stayed silent, looking back and forth between the boys and Logan.

"Roguey! You're actually-considering-it! How-could-you!"

Rogue sighed.

"Right. Ah'll get rid of them, Logan. No need tah channel Vlad the Impaler." She waved her hand at them, "Git."

"Not-before-you-choose-between-one-of-us!" Pietro crossed his arms with a huff and stomped his feet a bit, "I want to know _now_!"

"Y' really are an impatient _homme. Mais, _while we're here, we might as well get d' truth outta her." Remy leaned against the windowsill, playing cool.

"Well, according to my statistics the one in-"

"Y' statistics are shit." Remy didn't yell, but said in such a decisive tone that Kitty's head disappeared back into the floor, "'S jus' speculation, and dis ain't a fuckin' romance movie where y' can tell de _femme's _heart by lookin' at her. Sides, all o' y' been crap when it comes t' readin' her, anyway."

"And _you _know how to read me, Remy? Southerners unite and all that shit?"

"'S not just de Southern t'ing, otherwise dat _blond homme _y' got in dis house'd be cozyin' up t' you. Remy'd be a fool for goin' to de lengths he do _pour _every Southern _belle _he sees, _hein?_"

"Then why the hell are you goin' after me then? Why the hell are alla y'all tryin' so hard t' get with me when there's nothin' to fuckin' get with!"

"'S not 'bout getting into y' pants, _chere_. Could care less about dat."

"Right. Cause the challenge is more than enough t'keep ya occupied."

"Y' right. It _is_ a challenge!"

Pietro had an 'oh-shit-no-he-did-not' look on his face.

Rogue looked pissed, mostly to hide up the welling of tears behind her eyes. So it _is _a challenge. And the bastard admitted it so easily, too.

"Y' a challenge, Rogue. De biggest challenge Remy ever had. Y' de most argumentative person I know. Even when we're havin' a normal conversation s'like y' challengin' me. Everyt'in' about y' is compellin', _cherie. _Touch is de _least _important t'ing compared t' jus' _bein' _wit' y'."

"Then why are ya trying so hard with the romantics!" Rogue asked angrily, which was actually a little helplessly.

"'Cause Remy adores y', _cherie. _He can't help getting a little jealous wit' all de _hommes _fightin' f'y' attention." He raised his hands in a peace gesture, but was really a 'why don't you hug me?' gesture.

Rogue was the teensiest bit flustered. And a flustered Rogue is a dangerous Rogue. She didn't know what to do with her hands, so settled with pushing her hair back repeatedly. Pietro was cursing in his head a mile a minute. How the hell was he going to get her to like him more than the Cajun now?

"Am I forgiven, _chere_? Does Remy get a hug now?" His arms widened along with his teasing grin.

Rogue's hands twitched. She thought about it—He did look comfortable in that unbelievably sexy way.

He took a step closer to her and she pushed him out the window.

On accident, of course.

Gasps are heard from behind the drama and it's revealed that half the mansion had been watching from the doorway.

"Rogue!" Kurt exclaimed, dropping his bag of popcorn, "Why must you always push? Why is it never a hug?"

They all rush to the window, Kurt forgetting that he can teleport.

She ran out of the room.

Another default reaction.


	12. Alright, New Plan

"_Merde._" Remy groaned, turning over and finding himself constricted. His instincts kick in fullforce and he starts thrashing like crazy against whatever was restricting his movements, his foot burning, his hands groping around until he finds something to grab on to and charges it as his eyes open and he prepares himself for the blinding light.

The _dim_ lights.

And the hospital room.

With dim lights?

The insufferable thing constricting him was a blanket. Powder blue. The _worst_ type of blue.

In his hand? The bed. He uncharges it so he doesn't end up _blowing himself up_.

Essex? Didn't smell like it. Like rot and blood underneath a thick cloud of cleaning chemicals almost threatening to suffocate him.

He looks around and grabs a test tube to charge. Just in case.

"Ah, young Mister LeBeau. I see you've woken up."

A big furry man—not powder blue, but a deeper and slightly better shade. Dr. Henry McCoy, formerly a teacher at Bayville High, old friend of Professor Xavier, now a "professor" and unofficial physician of Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters. Formerly Bayville's most wanted before all charges were cleared, thanks to Xavier's big wallet. A physical mutation with enhanced senses and animalistic tendencies, with an IQ off the charts, and a pacifist unless pushed.

It was Remy's job to know these things. Or Gambit's old job to memorize the files.

"You had quite a nasty crash, Mr. LeBeau." Dr. McCoy said, approaching him with a friendly smile. Remy relaxed in the presence, probably from his empathy reaching out to the blue man and calming him once it deemed Hank a non-threat. He had expected it, but it was a habit he didn't plan on breaking any time soon. Which is probably why he was always so wary of strong telepaths. They hid their emotions as well as their minds.

"Remy don' crash. T'ieves are like cats. Dey always fall on dere feet."

"And you would have been as graceful as one, too, had your head not hit the balcony beforehand. You did land on your feet, however. And in turn you've sprained your ankle."

Ah, the pain in his foot. Yes.

"How bad is it, doc? 'S Remy gon' live?"

"Well you would certainly anger a certain Rogue if you didn't manage to live through this. Gave her quite a panic."

"She de one who pushed me in the first place." Remy snorted. That crazy woman. Not nearly as insane as Bella, thank God.

"Women are indeed one of life's ever complicating mysteries."

"Women—dey easy t' figure out. Rogue..." Remy sighed happily, "She _une_ complicated _fille_."

Hank chuckled. Young love.

"No need to worry about your health, Remy. In fact, other than that bruise you're sporting on your head, your health is impeccable." A small _whoosh _signified the opening of the automatic doors, "Oh! Speak of the devil, and ye shall appear." Hank said, taking his leave as Rogue entered.

"_Chere, _y' come t' take care o' poor Remy?" Remy asked, not allowing himself that small bud of hope that she actually _was _here to take care of him, other than to just assuage her guilty X-Man conscience.

"As if." She blushes, leaning on the wall beside his bed. He allows the bud to grow.

"Regardless o' de reason, _chere, _Remy got somethin' he needs t' tell y'."

"Really?" She looks around nervously, avoiding eye contact, "Cause you said a lot up there already."

"No need t' worry none, _ma belle fille_. No world changin' confession jus' yet." He grinned teasingly, "Jus' have t' tell y' dat Remy be goin' on a little vacation fo' a bit. Got some business dat he needs t' do, and dat if he don't show up in a week o' _deux _y' don' need t' worry none. "

"Vacation?" Rogue's blush was taken over by her anger, "Where the hell are you runnin' off to?"

"Official business." Remy saluted her, "Remy swear. No funny stuff 't all. Won' even make a big t'ing outta where he stays. Dirty motel rooms and fast food be all he gon' take."

"Lahke Ah care what ya do." She huffed, but he felt a bit of relief coming from her all the same.

"'Course y' don', _chere. _Well den," He sat up, testing his motor functions and then standing once he found everything was working in order, "Guess Remy'll dress and go."

"What? You're leavin' already?" The bud of hope blooms into a very large and very happy flower at that look of surprise and... sadness, he hopes, in her eyes.

"Well dat's all Remy had t' do 'fore he left. 'Less y' want him t' stick around a bit more."

"Ah don't care. Leave. Whatevah." She pouts, and Remy finds her absolutely adorable. And he's never thought that about anything. He laughs at little kittens, children, stuffed animals, and everything else that everyone always says is cute.

"Don't worry none, _chere. _I'll be back 'fore y' know it. Actually, dat's jus' a figure of speech. Remy'll prolly be gone for a long bit. Not gonna ask y' to wait up for 'im or not'in'. 'D be stupid o'me t' t'ink y' would 'f I asked, anyway. Jus' don' rush t' f'get me."

"Stop tryin' tah sweet talk me and go, Cajun." She huffs.

"Does dat mean 's workin', _chere?_"

Rogue glowered at him.

"I'll be takin' my leave, now."

And when he came back, they could finally be together.

* * *

"So how's the bet going?" Fred asks as Pietro zips in through the door.

"Go eat your weight in burgers."

Todd snatches a burger before Fred makes good on the suggestion.

"Yo, Pietro." Todd says as Pietro pouts on the ratty sofa.

"What, snot hair?"

"I was thinkin', 'bout that whole bet and all."

"Yeah?"

"How abouts we just call it off?"

Pietro raises a lazy eyebrow and glares.

"Really? And what brought that decision on?"

"Well," Todd started, leading into a flashback that Pietro would only skim the details of.

_Rogue didn't know what exactly Jean had ever seen in Duncan, but Rogue had seen enough to want to throw her breakfast up all over him. True, her breakfast was a cup of coffee. Black, of course, like her soul. But that didn't mean that throwing up on him would be any less effective in terms of how unbelievably disgusting it would be. By then it must have mixed with all her stomach juices and would have gone from a dark brown to a murky brownish looking thing. Just like how she felt whenever she saw him._

_No wonder Jean went for Scott and crushed Rogue's hopes and dreams with that move. The alternative was a jerk._

_"Hey, why don't ya pick on somebody with yer own brain capacity? A fly, maybe?" She asks once she sees the dumbass and his other jock friends cornering Toad against the wall._

_"Back off, freakazoid, unless you wanna join your mutant buddy in our redecorating of his face."_

_"Ya welcome to try! Ah'll take ya, both gloves on!"_

_The jocks exchanged glances. They heard the rumors. That she did more than just look like a vampire. She sucked the life out of you like one, too. What kind of name was Rogue, anyhow? The name of a loose cannon, that's what._

_"Yo, not so tough once my girl's around, huh? Like to see you try and stuff her into a locker without getting' your asses whooped, man."_

_"You shut up, slimeface!" Duncan grabbed Todd by the shirtfront and slammed him from the wall into the lockers._

_"Hey! Lay off, jerks!" Rogue yelled, her fists clenching at the sides._

_"Why don't you make me!" Duncan yelled in retaliation._

_"Maybe Ah will!" Rogue gave Duncan a swift punch to the face at the word, 'will'._

_"Ha!" Duncan yelled, stumbling back and holding his hand to his jaw, "That didn't hurt at all!" Duncan winced, "You hit like a five year old girl!"_

_"Ah know. Ah've always been more powerful with mah," She did a spin kick to his chest and he went flying into the wall with a thud before going down in a tangle of limbs, "legs!"_

_She gave the group of losers a smirk, "Anyone else wanna have a go?"_

_They gathered Duncan and ran off like frightened animals._

_"Thanks, Rogue. I owe you one, man."_

_"Whatevah. Just try not tah get cornered by the loser crew next time."_

_"Hah. Loser crew. That's what we call you guys." Toad laughed, not remembering that it was an insult, and that people were likely to be offended by it._

_Rogue was not impressed._

_ "I mean, thanks. Yeah. I'll just be going now." And so he hopped away._

* * *

"She is nice, isn't she." Fred nods along to Todd's story.

Pietro just thinks. Honestly? He hadn't even been thinking about the bet outside of the Brotherhood Home, and Rogue saving Todd from the mindless buffoons doesn't surprise him much. She is an X-Man, through and through, and it isn't that big of a risk, going up against _Duncan _of all people.

But she is an _X-Man, _and that thought really hits home. Not that he's guilty, or anything. He's done worse to more people for less of an incentive, except he doesn't have his daddy issues to blame anyone for this. Hell, the parental issues the two of them have should have been a reason to get close to her just because they were in the same boat, not to use her for... hell, he didn't even remember the terms of the bet anymore.

Did he... Like her? Skunk girl, with uglyass makeup and even uglier ass shoes?

Although he didn't mind the miniskirt much.

And she did switch in purple eyeshadow for black cats eyes during the past years, and that _was _a little attractive.

Okay, so the bet was over and done with and he wanted _her_ just, well, because. He already has a scary-ass Goth sister, might as well have a violent-ass Goth girlfriend.

He just had to make sure she never found out about the bet. Ever.

So he just had to shut up Lance, the whiny brat he was (nothing like Pietro at _all,)_ and everything would be good.


	13. The Truth Comes Out

When Rogue went to her room after a long day, half of a week into Remy's absence, she saw an envelope on her bed, the size of a CD, with a quickly handwritten note taped to it.

It was actual _parchment, _like out of a Harry Potter movie, and the quick scrawl had ink splatters, as if written with a calligraphy pen or something.

Rogue was impressed.

_From one frigid bitch to another._

_-SW_

Rogue put the DVD into her laptop and tilted her head curiously as the black screen flickered to a room, decked out in dark red and anYtique furniture, was that cherry wood? Very tasteful. It complemented the scarlet quite nicely.

_"So this is the first attempted contact... ever." _Wanda says, sitting in a nice, comfortable looking chair, a faded black sofa with a red blanket over the head.

Rogue nodded, wondering why there was attempted contact in the first place.

_"Which is stupid, if you ask me. You're pretty much the only one in this place that is neither an idiot, nor is ignorant to the color black outside of the training room."_ Rogue snorted, "_Our positions are similar. Both parents we are aware of are manipulative, conniving assholes who would sooner brainwash us and have us live in lies," The room started shaking before Wanda took a deep, calming breath, "Than be honest with how evil they are."_

Rogue's soul reached out and fistbumped Wanda's.

_"And we both have annoying, stupid little brothers."_

Rogue laughed.

_"And now since Pietro has decided to give up the bet, you two can really start dating and we can become close friends. I hope to see you at the house sometime."_

_Wanda attempted a smile, then rolled her eyes and shut off the camera._

Rogue blinked.

What bet?

* * *

"Pietro," Rogue says slowly as he sits next to her on the park bench, a single white rose in his hands. Of course he knew that white roses were her favorite. Goddamn him.

"Yes, Roguey?" She glowers, and something in her face must've set him off because now he looks a little serious.

"What bet?"

Pietro, if possible, turns even more pale.

"It was Lance, wasn't it. I gave him the _perfect _diamonds for Kitty and he still doublecrosses me!"

"Lance is involved?"

"Yeah, didn't he.." Pietro slows down and looks at her with narrowed eyes, "Who told you?"

"Your sister. Now tell me what the bet actually is." Rogue demands, and Pietro takes all of two seconds to go over every option in his head and then finally give up.

Girls like Rogue needed honesty.

"Before I do, I want you to know that I like you. Alot."

Rogue's anger quells the oncoming blush.

"And also know that I meant well, just like when I screwed up with Wanda. And she still loves me, to an extent."

Rogue raises an eyebrow.

"So are you going to tell me now?"

"We wanted to know if you could love or not."

Rogue has seen Not Another Teen Movie, and other shit she doesn't care about with Freddie Prince Jr. and all them due to Kitty's movie night choices. She automatically comes to the right conclusion.

And punches him in the face before running away.

* * *

It takes Pietro five seconds to recover from the punch in the face (and even though Rogue was hurt, she still knew how to hurt others more because _damn _she had a good right hook.)

It takes ten seconds for Pietro to decide it's worth it to run after her.

"Rogue! Dammit, Rogue, stop!" He speeds in front of her, dodges the punch he knows is coming, then the kick, then the punch, then the _flying _kick, and finally grabs her fist when she attempts to punch him again and spins her around into a hold, carefully out of reach for a headbutt and legs spaced so she can't swipe them out from underneath him.

He feels like he is holding onto an angry alligator that will turn into a stingray and pierce his heart unexpectedly.

"Rogue, I _care _about you! I don't know why since you're so _violent _all the time, but I do! Would I really spend all that time with you because of a bet?"

"Yes."

"Okay, maybe I am pride-driven. But we gave up the bet like, a week ago! And I still have been spending every day with you, right? _Buying _you things, even?"

"Lunch at McDonalds doesn't count as splurging on me."

"It is when you're as poor as I am. And I didn't steal it! That means true affection."

"You are filled with so much shit it's amazing you haven't had explosive diarrhea of the mouth."

"That is a disgusting mental image."

Rogue revs herself up for a big rant of loyalty and how she always got used and shat on like she was 1-ply toilet paper, and then abruptly deflated. Pietro eyed her warily and then let her go.

She sagged on him a bit, and he held her once again, but this time just to hold her up. For all the years he's known her, this is the first time he's been so close to her for so long. Almost thirty seconds go by... thirty two.. thirty three... and he can smell the lavender in her hair, the lingering hints of spice that weren't from Gambit but just her and her habit of putting salt and pepper on anything.

He thinks for a moment that it's a little stronger than just like... Maybe like like...

"You're such a loser." Rogue sighs, and he realizes his fingers were barely touching the bare skin on Rogue's neck and he hadn't even noticed. _He doesn't really care._ He jerks away blushing, hoping that last thought didn't get to her.

It does.


	14. Rogue's Going Soft

Another week has passed before Rogue gets her first contact with Remy. It is a phone call, and a rather stupid one at that.

He calls three times, and she hangs up on him twice before checking the caller ID.

"Cajun." She mutters into the phone, eyes still shut.

"Rogue! Remy missed hearin' y'voice, _chere_."

"Call in the daytime." Rogue's voice, unlike the sweet, Southern twang the world was used hearing, was rough, gravelly, and as deep as a man's. She was tired. She had an excuse.

"_Merde, mon chere_, is hard t'take, Remy know..."

"What the hell you on, Cajun? It's four in th'mornin'." Rogue growls. She almost hangs up on him just at the thought of it.

"Rogue, I'm dead." He says, so seriously, that for a second she almost believes him.

"Bullshit." She calls on him, and hates him for how awake she is right now.

"_Non, non, _Remy speak d'trut'. His bike just flipped over, 'n' _adieu, _bike looks fine, Remy don' got no scratch on 'im."

"So how're you dead, swamp rat?"

"'S quiet." Remy says quietly, "Too quiet."

"Ah can imagine how bein' alive and safe may be _tres difficile._" The Southern twang mixing with the French accent sent Remy chills.

"_Non, ma belle_. Remy's a spook now."

"If you're dead, how can I be talking to you?" Idiot.

"He a poltergeist."

"Yeah, an' I'm Whoopi." Rogue drawls.

"Rogue, c'mon. Y'dunno how long Remy got 'fore he goes into the light."

"Fuck your light."

"_Rogue._"

"Just shut up and get on home. Ya lucky y'alive. Idiot."

She hangs up the phone again.

* * *

It is the morning.

Rogue is getting ready for the day.

Kitty is happy and already dressed.

"So, like, how's your life going?" Kitty asks chirpily, and Rogue is tempted to hit her.

She wants to hit everybody lately.

"The usual sucky shit. Pietro just wanted tah get with me cause of a bet, the Cajun is _literally _an _idiot_, and I'ma run away to Canada. Maybe find Logan's old hiding cabin and live there for a couple decades."

"That bad?" Kitty asks.

"That bad. Shoot, an' the worst part is I'm gettin' _soft."_ Rogue wants to kick herself, "I'm meeting Pietro for lunch."

"Really? After the whole bet and everything?"

"You know the brotherhood." Rogue shrugs, putting the finishing touches on her lipstick, "Loveable dirtbags."

"Is it an X-Girl thing?" Kitty asks, "Loving dirtbags?"

"Oh please. Who's running off with Petey? He's the farthest thing from a dirtbag I know. And _Kurt _is my brother."

"He still worked for Magneto."

"Because he was _blackmailed _into it."

"And he still looks, like, totally _dreamy _in a leather jacket."

They are both silent, with both of their versions of smiles on their faces.

They are content.

* * *

"So..." Pietro says, chewing his burger at lightening speed, "You forgave me pretty quick. I thought you'd throw me off of a cliff first."

She gives him a warning glare.

"I'm more realistic than Kitty. I have accepted that everyone is an asshole, 'specially white-haired douchebags."

"Oh. Good, good. So you know who you're choosing, then?"

"What?"

"Who you're choosing. Me or Gambit? The other losers don't count. They never had a chance."

"You're not serious, right?"

"I'm always serious when I want to be."

"Both of y'all are such dicks. Who says I'm choosin' anybody?"

"Well you have to."

"Well, no I don't. I'll just be a spinster. I like cats." Maybe panthers.

"You're kidding me. What's the point of me fighting for you if none of us can win?"

"I didn't ask none of ya tah fight over me in the first place."

"Well you don't have to _ask_. Who does that?"

"People who would appreciate the attention."

"Rogue, we fought for you because we want you." Pietro said at a mollasses pace compared to his usual quick words, Rogue almost couldn't slow down to understand.

"Well, there isn't a winner."

"Are you sure about that?" Pietro asks mysteriously, and Rogue imagines him cackling evilly.

"You want me to choose someone?"

"Yes, whatelsedoyouthinkI'mgettingat?"

"Jamie."

"What?"

"Jamie is my favorite."

"Jamie."

"Yeah."

"The short one?"

"He is my favorite. Yes."

"Well that doesn't count for shit. The one you choose can be your _least _favorite. Your mind doesn't get to choose."

Rogue is quiet for a long while.

"Well it's not like I have a heart."

Pietro gives a long, drawn-out sigh.

"Roguey, Roguey, Roguey. You're so good at playing pretend."

The two have a staring match and Pietro finally sighs and looks away.

"Fine then. I'll drive you home to your hundred cats."

**Author's Note**: This is what happens when I watch interviews of Jared Padelecki while thinking of what to write. He was on Ellen, relating the story of how he thought he died, and I thought it was too hilarious not to put in this story.

So I am at a loss of who to choose in the end. I'm honestly thinking Rogue shouldn't choose anyone, or it should be left up to speculation.


	15. A Tragedy

Rogue is at Bayville's only music store, in the mall of course, looking for some interesting CD she hasn't already bought. It was therapeutic, mindlessly wandering through the mindless music. It was all very distracting from her life.

"Your soul is dark right now." A voice says from behind her, and the reflex elbow jab she threw out turned her arm into a boneless limb dangling at her side after connecting with something hard and glowing blue.

"That hurt." The voice elaborates, somewhat tonelessly, and Rogue glares at the intruder of her privacy.

"Wanda." She declares, glaring at her arm pointedly, "Do you mind givin' me feeling back in my limbs?"

"Would you mind not attacking me like a blind moron?"

"Then don't sneak up on me!"

"Any mutant, much less one of Xavier's standards, should always be on their guard."

"Which is why I attacked you when you snuck _up _on me." In her anger, she attempted to point an accusing finger at Wanda, only to have her arm flap a little uselessly at her side.

Wanda smirked in amusement, and Rogue considered the pros and cons of having one of her legs lose all feeling if it meant giving her a nice, swift kick to the-

"I believe your logic is sound." Wanda waves her hand, Rogue's arm glows blue, and Rogue is wondering if the socially sheltered child has been having a Star Trek marathon from the way the sociopath was channeling Spock's mannerisms.

She even had the makings of his hair...

"An' whaddya mean my _soul is dark_? Just cause your name's Scarlet Witch don't mean you've got some weirdass empath mojo going on."

Wanda stares at Rogue for a few moments.

"I am a practicing wiccan. I mastered the reading of auras once I mastered my powers." The following _'bitch_' went unspoken, but was clearly present in the conversation.

"Oh. Okay." Rogue says a little awkwardly, "And what's my aura saying?"

"You have more than your usual amount of darkness."

"That's nice." What did Wanda expect her to say to that?

"Is your darkness in any way related to my attempt at communication?"

Rogue stopped any sarcastic retort she would've bit out. She looked at Wanda, _really _looked at her, and understood her a little more. Wanda was.. reaching out to Rogue?

This would be one of the only friends Rogue has ever had in Bayville that wasn't her housemate or her mother in disguise...

"Not directly cause of you." Rogue starts abruptly, and then wonders if growing up friendless and bitchy was akin to isolated in a mental asylum when it came to developing social skills. "Everyone is just being stupid."

"That's a surprise?" Wanda asks, and starts rifling through the CDs. She picks up a black one curiously with red graffiti on it, squints at the cover, and then puts it back with a grimace.

"Well _that _ain't, but it's my tolerance of their stupidity that's the problem. All these idiots.." She could feel herself getting into rant mode, "They know I can't touch people, right?"

"Oh, yes, you cannot control your power." Wanda says as if observing a small fuzzy animal on the discovery channel being eaten alive.

"No, no," Rogue replied airily, "I cannot. And they assume that I can be in a romantic relationship despite not being able to touch anyone."

"You're talking about my idiot brother."

"Him too, yeah."

"There is more than one idiot?"

"Honestly? It's like I'm in some stupid situation you only hear about in fiction. Pietro, Cajun, some of the guys in the house, it's like they heard about a girl who couldn't touch anyone and decided to take it as a personal challenge to overcome."

"And if your power was not an issue?"

"But it is."

"But if it was not?"

"But that's not even an option."

"Because your view is narrow."

"Because I've lived with this my whole life."

"Your mutation only presents itself at puberty. You're exaggerating."

Rogue frowns, "I lived with _loneliness _my whole life then."

"Loneliness drives you crazy. You should fix that."

"I'll get right on that."

"You should try meditating. That enabled me to control my powers."

"I have."  
"With Xavier?" Wanda scoffs, "The man means well, but he was useless in helping me tame myself."

"And now you're perfect, cause, who trained you. Mystique?" Rogue scoffed, "The woman would just use me as a weapon until everyone around me was sucked dry to the bone."

"Of course not. The woman is only good at recruitment and petty vendettas. Agatha taught me control."

"Never heard of her."

"Few care to."

"Cryptic."

"She's that, too."

"She got a number?"

"No."

"In the phonebook?"

"No."

"... Can I get a hold of her?"

"I will send a message out for her."

"Carrier pigeon?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Wanda doesn't bother to clarify what mode of communication she would be using instead of the ridiculous carrier pigeons.

The two rifle through CDs for a while, sneering at various CD covers or people, before Rogue decided to actually speak.

"Want to get some coffee?"

* * *

In Xavier land, despite having a telepath for a landlord, most times Rogue had not clue what was happening. Having dozens of superpowered teenagers underneath one roof, most times Rogue did not _want _to know what was happening.

However, being strapped into the X-Jet in full X-Costume with a tense silence over the whole place... well, color Rogue a bit tickled. She looks expectantly at Logan, who is bristling with the usual feral adrenaline he gets when the mission hits a little close to home. Which child of the institute was involved now? X-23? The professor's mystery son?

Storm, fitting her name perfectly, is intimidating in her silence and calm lack of movement.

Xavier wheels up to face the pack, and even Bobby knows better to be the first one to open his mouth.

"We have received multiple distress signals originating from tunnels underneath the city we believe to be from the Morlocks."

'Evan' is the large elephant in the room that has Kitty gasping in horror. This was more than just a little scuffle they were being called to. The silence was too tense for that. The fact that they were being briefed on the mission halfway to their destination was proof of the severity of the SOS.

"Do we know the cause?" Scott asks, and Xavier looks hesitant.

"A mutant attack, although we are unfamiliar with the group."

"Mutants attacking mutants? Who would do that?" Bobby frowned.

"These are questions we do not have time to find the answer to. Our only goal is to subdue the attackers and protect the Morlocks from further harm."

Some are shaky, but now they are entering into battle mode and have time for hesitation. No time for fear.

Shadowcat and Nightcrawler head out before they land, sinking through the floor and teleporting back.

It's just chaos, no point of origin, three or four attackers at least but powerful ones.

Aiming to kill.

Wolverine growls, and 'Sabretooth' is the name that has everyone shivering.

And they're off.

Rogue is used to being one of the last ones into a battle. Hers isn't a flashy power, and being one of the first to run into the battle would be equate to a human running headfirst into a field of cacti when there's a perfectly good-looking steamroller behind you willing to flatten the field a bit.

She takes off her left glove and tucks it into her belt, keeping her right hand covered in case she needed to grab someone and _not _have them rendered conscious. But she was not holding back this mission. This wasn't the Brotherhood.

So Rogue has had a few extra seconds to steal herself for, though Kitty described it as chaos, resembled instead a _massacre. _She doesn't have enough time to compute that the human-shaped things on the ground surrounded by red are-Cyclops beams bounce off of a target and blind Rogue, catching her off guard for the small tornado that tosses her into the sewage walls.

She lands next to a human-shaped thing and hisses at the graze on her leg.

Tornados with flying projectiles.

Her eyes narrow at a brunette mutant with a daredevil grin, tornadoes dancing around him, and she makes eye contact with Kitty who nods at her and sinks into the ground.

Rogue's right hand is grabbed and she sinks down also, coming back up behind the mutant to grab his face.

He snatches her hand and she feels something snap, but he grabs her with his bare skin so her powers are still effective. If anything, the pain from her hand makes him pass out all the quicker.

He can control where the tornados go.

She cracks her neck.

Interesting.

* * *

The fight is long and grueling, but Rogue takes all of the experience in her head, all of her heads, and comes out worn but, for the most part, safe. What are a few cuts and broken bones? It's only after everything is done and over with does Rogue catch up with herself.

This was the worst thing Rogue has ever seen with her own eyes.

The Morlocks grew in numbers, one of the voices think detachedly, although their numbers were now moot seeing the aftermath. Just more bodies Rogue couldn't recognize.

She hushed at the minds inside her snarling, crying, yelling, and knelt down next to a not-quite-broken Torpid. The one word she can't hush, singing through her entire body and echoing through the tunnels. _Why._

Why did this happen.

Why was there so much blood.

Her mind immediately rooted over and snatched up the man she absorbed. _Riptide. _Bloodthirsty, detached... curious about his powers.

Why were they here?

The _Marauders_.

Sounded like some pirates.

They were sent.

An extermination crew.

But for what?

She didn't have enough of him. The answers weren't there.

But a face was clear. A name. The one who led them there and broke Rogue's heart just by existing.

Gambit was the one who assembled the team.

The voices overwhelm her with outrage and shock and whatever small Gambit floating around in her head is crushed. Her senses heighten and root through the scent of blood and tears and fear and find _swamp rat._

* * *

**Author's Note**: Sorry if people were expecting lighthearted drama and romantic angst. Maybe I'm in a darker place right now? But it'll still have my brand of humor in the story, there'll just be some heavy shizznit all up in here. But you're tough readers. You can take it.

And I apologize for my abysmal action skills. I've been working on it, but apparently there hasn't been much improvement.


	16. Setting up for Heartbreak

It only takes her moments, but when Rogue finally finds him, he's holding someone in his arms. All Rogue sees are frail limbs and a mess of pink hair, but she couldn't discern whether the pink was from the blood matted in her hair or not. But blood didn't dry pink, right?

Gambit was shaking. She just noticed. And he's muttering. She still has a feel of Wolverine about her, so her hearing is able to focus in on him.

"Ain't m' fault." He repeats to himself, over and over.

"Gambit?" She asks tentatively, recognizing the signs of crazy from her own meltdowns. This could get ugly really quick.

"Ain't Remy's fault, 't ain't. Wasn't 'pposed t' be like dis. _Merde._" He holds the person in his arms a little closer, and Rogue worries that jostling an unconscious someone bleeding out isn't exactly the best form of treatment.

"Gambit, what did you _do." _She hisses out, losing patience in her anger. She was surrounded by blood. Blood spilt by the savages that _he led. _Why did she feel sympathetic towards him?

"It ain't Remy's fault."

His babbling was cut short by a cuff to the head from Wolverine's heavy hand.

"We don't have time for this meltdown crap. We're gathering all the wounded and taking them back to Hank."

Wolverine drapes Gambit over one shoulder, the wounded figure (which Rogue sees is a woman, albeit a frail one,) over the other, and heads over to the X-Jet.

Rogue shakes her head and puts on her glove so she could help carry Morlocks.

* * *

"What. The fricking hell. Was that?!" Kitty asks to the silence of the jet. Pete puts a comforting hand on her shoulder that she curls up into.

"I don't even know..." Bobby puts his head in both his hands.

How could a group who named themselves after James Potter's group of friends do this? The Marauders? Who decides on that kind of name?

"Who are the Marauders, Rogue?" Jean asks from next to Scott, her voice eerily calm considering the situation.

"Are you readin' my mind again, Jean?" Rogue snaps out of habit.

"You're projecting your thoughts. You all are. I can't help it."

"Who _are _the Marauders, Rogue?" Kurt interjects, using his sincere tone to diffuse the situation like always.

"I don't know! I wasn't able to really dig deep into the guy's head when I absorbed him. It was mostly just... anger. And his power. He wasn't really reminiscin' on the field. Just-" She was rambling, "Get off my back, wouldya?!"

"Hey, cool it Stripes." Logan grunts from the front.

"It's cool!"

She sighed and lay her head back on her seat.

She had a lot of questions and no answers at all. Having everyone in her head made her believe that she knew everything about everyone, and knowing everything should stop the surprise and hurt from coming when she was betrayed yet again. Yet this massacre at the hands of Gambit? That showed her how naive she really was.

She didn't know anything at all.


End file.
